


Out of the Wild

by Chilly Super Punk (BangBangBeefKeef)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Based on a True Story, Childhood Friends, Fanart, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hermit Keith, Keith lives in his shack in the desert and breaks into Lance's farmhouse for food, Klance Pinefest 2020, Lance catches him and forces him to be friends with him, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BangBangBeefKeef/pseuds/Chilly%20Super%20Punk
Summary: For as long as Lance can remember, things have gone missing from his house. Food, tools, clothing, toys... Items that aren't missed, but, when it's Lance's favourite blanket that goes missing, he's inconsolable and his parents decide he's old enough to the know the truth. For twenty years a hermit has been breaking into their home and others in the community and taking only what he needs to survive. Lance's parents assure him that the Hermit is harmless, but Lance isn't convinced. That's why he sets up a trap to catch the Hermit red handed. Only he doesn't catch a man breaking into his pantry in the middle of the night. No, he catches a boy his own age.Based on the True Story of the North Pond Hermit.***** Featuring two illustrations by Bijouoffline *****
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 81
Kudos: 289
Collections: Klance: Into the Multiverse, Klasix Master Collection, The Klance Pinefest Fics





	1. Freeze, sucka!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Bijouoffline for the art in chapters 2 and 6!!
> 
> Check her out on twitter @bijouoffline

“Put that back, mijo,” warned Lance’s mom.

Lance froze in place, one foot on the paintcan he’d dragged over, one foot sticking out behind him in a graceful point. He had one hand on the pantry shelf, the other wrapped around the jar of crunchy peanut butter.

“Back. Now. I mean it.”

“But mamá, the jar in the cupboard is empty. I’m just getting a new one.” 

“I’ll buy you more tomorrow.”

“But,” said Lance, coming to stand with both feet on the paintcan and wrapping both his little arms around the jar of peanut butter, “We have more now.”

“That is… backup,” she said, speaking carefully.

“Backup?” repeated Lance. “We need more now so…” He went to twist the cap off but his little hands couldn’t get a grip on it.

“Mijo!” snapped his mother, getting that extra scary tone that meant he was really testing her patience.

“Fiiiiine,” groaned Lance, putting the jar back up on the pantry shelf next to yet another jar of crunchy peanut butter, a sack of oatmeal, and a bag of apples.

*********

The next morning Lance woke up craving toast and peanut butter. He remembered that his mother wouldn’t have had time to go to the store yet and bitterly thought about those extra jars just sitting there in the pantry. 

His room was halfway between light and dark meaning his parents would be up, but doing chores outside. Maybe he could just… sneak a jar back to his room with his mom being none the wiser.

Feeling like the brilliant child genius that he is, Lance snuck downstairs in his footy jammies and slipped into the pantry. He dragged the paintcan over and stepped onto it to become eye level with the shelf only to discover that everything that had been there yesterday - the oatmeal, the apples, and yes, the two jars of peanut butter - were gone.

*********

“It’s a ghost,” said Lance on the bus ride to school. “It’s a ghost and my mom is feeding it.”

“Do ghosts eat?” asked his best friend.

“Listen Hunk,” said Lance, “we need to think logically here and the most logical explanation is my house has a ghost, it does eat, and my mom is leaving it food so it doesn’t eat me.”

Hunk looked absolutely terrified. He was a good friend like that. Hunk always worried about Lance’s problems at least as much as he did, sometimes more.

“The most logical explanation is your mom moved the food where you can’t find it and swipe it,” said Katie, turning around in her seat.

“Nobody asked you,” said Lance with a scowl.

*********

The thing was, Lance’s ghost explanation made a lot of sense. Stuff went missing from his house all the time and not just food. Once Lance and all four of his siblings had spent an entire afternoon searching the farm for their dad’s axe. Normally they wouldn’t have committed so many hours to this kind of search, but their parents had promised a ten dollar bill to whoever found it. No one did though and the next day their dad came home from the hardware store with a brand new axe and no one mentioned it again.

Another time Lance’s aunt had gifted him a brand new red hoodie as a back to school gift. It was so soft and warm, Lance had worn it every day for the first week of grade four. The next Monday though, when he went looking for it before school, he couldn’t find it anywhere. Lance spent the rest of the week looking for it, even going so far as to clean his room, but it was nowhere to be found. 

When his mom noticed the next week that he’d stopped wearing it, he lied and said he didn’t like red anymore and that blue was his favourite colour. Lance expected her to figure out that he’d lost it and scold him on taking care of his things, but she said nothing.

“It was probably mamá who took it,” said Rachel, Lance’s sister after he’d confided in her his very compelling ghost theory.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” argued Lance, annoyed that she wasn’t scared like he expected her to be.

“She took it to teach you a lesson about taking care of your stuff. You’re always losing things!”

“Am I losing things or is a ghost taking my things? And what about dad’s axe? Did mom take that too?”

“Yes, probably. She didn’t like that old thing. It’s head was loose and she was always telling dad one day it was going to fly off and kill one of us so…”

“So?”

“She took matters into her own hands.”

Maybe Rachel had a point and maybe Katie was right. Maybe it was his mom. But what happened next completely obliterated this theory. The next day Lance’s mom bought him the same hoodie in blue. This was the strangest occurrence of Lance’s ten years of life. With a family of seven, hand-me-downs were Lance’s standard wardrobe. His parents had never before gone out and spent money on something new just because Lance liked the colour better and if Lance’s mom had taken away the red sweater just to teach him a lesson about taking care of his things, this made even less sense.

Then there was the case of Lance’s favourite blanket…

Lance had the best blanket in the house. It was fleece with a picture of three wolves howling at the moon. Awesome, right? It had been Lance’s dad’s when he was younger which meant it was probably a hundred years old or something. It had some holes and a bit of an odd smell and it was just a tiny bit scratchy, but Lance liked that. He liked rubbing it against his nose to relax before he fell asleep.

One day he dragged the blanket downstairs to snuggle with it while watching cartoons. When it was bedtime he realized he’d left it downstairs, but was too tired to go fetch it. Besides, it was a warmer night and he was happy enough with just a sheet. But then the next morning, when he went to have another snuggle with it after breakfast, it was missing from the living room.

This time Lance cried for a straight hour over his blanket. The other things that had gone missing over the years: food, clothes, toys etc.… None of them had meant as much to him as his blanket.

It was when he was blubbering to his mom over his loss that he finally brought up the ghost to her. “I don’t care if our house is haunted. I just want my blanket back!”

“Haunted?” repeated his mom.

“By the ghost!” cried Lance, sitting himself up from where he’d been crying into the couch. “That takes all our stuff!”

“Mijo, ghosts aren’t real,” she’d said gently.

“Then who is taking our stuff?!”

His mother hadn’t said anything after that, but kept a tense look on her face all day while Lance sulked around the house. She was still looking just as stiff at dinner when Lance’s dad stood up at the table and said, “Kids, there is something your mother and I need to tell you.”

“I call mom!” said Veronica at the same time Marco said, “I call dad!”

“Guys, big picture,” said Luis, “two Christmases.”

“We are not getting divorced,” said their mom. Which prompted the three older siblings to groan is disappointment. Seriously?

“No, we want to come clean about something. I’m sure you’ve all noticed that things tend to go missing from the house and that your mom and I tend to turn a blind eye when they do. The truth is these things are being taken by --”

“The Hermit,” said Veronica, Luis, and Marco in unison.

“What?!” shrieked Lance and Rachel.

“Ah, so you’ve heard the rumours,” said their dad, looking at the three older siblings.

“What rumours?” said Veronica. “Everyone at my school knows about the Hermit. He lives alone out in the Badlands and when he needs supplies he breaks into a house and takes them.”

“He’s been caught on security tape,” said Luis, “So we know he exists. It’s just nobody can identify him.”

“Why haven’t the police caught him?” Lance outright yelled. Everyone at the table turned their attention towards him.

“Well, I think people called the police when the break-ins started,” said their dad, “But that was nearly twenty years ago.”

“And since the police could never find any leads,” said his mom, “and because people realized he was only taking some food and the occasional piece of clothing or tool, they decided it wasn’t worth the hassle of reporting the break-ins every time.”

“I heard Mrs. Coulter leaves her kitchen window unlocked with a box of food beside it,” said Marco, “Just so he doesn’t have to come all the way in.”

“I heard Pastor Clarke makes jerky just for the Hermit,” said Marco, “and knitts him a Christmas sweater once a year.”

“I’ve seen how Pastor Clarke knitts,” said Rachel, “I would not accept that sweater.”

“This is crazy,” said Lance. “Everyone is crazy!”

“The community just decided that if he was harmless and didn’t take much, we were okay with sharing,” explained Lance’s dad.

“I’m not okay with sharing!” argued Lance. “It’s my stuff he’s taking. He took my favourite blanket!” Tears starting pooling again in Lance’s eyes.

“Mijo, I don’t think he knew that blanket was special to you,” said his mother, gently.

“To him it would’ve looked very old,” said his dad.

“Because it was full of love!” said Lance which is what they’d always said whenever one of his siblings made fun of the holes.

“Why don’t you ask him to bring it back?” suggested Rachel.

“Yeah, I’ll just call him,” said Lance, sarcastically. “What’s the number? 1-800-CREEPY-HERMIT.”

“That’s too many numbers,” said Marco.

“No, I meant we could write him a note asking to bring it back.”

“People have tried writing him notes,” said Lance’s mom with a sigh. “We’ve even done it a few times, asking him to give us a list of what he needs so we can buy it and have it ready. I know what his favourite things are to eat so I always buy extra of those and leave them in the same spot in the pantry, but it would be helpful to know what else instead of just having him take it.”

“Especially if he needs something special like medicine or say, a new blanket,” added Lance’s dad.

“But he never writes back.”

“Maybe he can’t read and write,” gasped Rachel.

“Or he’s just being smart,” said Veronica. Everyone looked at her. “Think about it. If he leaves a note, it’s evidence that he exists and can be used against him by the authorities. I think he’s actually really smart if he’s gotten by alone for twenty years.”

“If he’s so smart, why’d he take my favourite thing in the whole world?” asked Lance.

“I am very sorry, mijo,” said his mother. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow to find you a new blanket.”

“But I don’t want a new blanket! I want my old one! It’s mine!” Lance stood up. “And I don’t care if you all feel sorry for this Hermit. He’s a thief and he’s a jerk!”

Lance ran upstairs and shut himself in his room for the rest of the night.

It was hours later when Lance got hungry. He had a particular craving for the crunchy peanut butter that was sitting on that one particular shelf in the pantry and figure he deserved it after losing his blanket. He began to sneak downstairs when a voice made him freeze. His parents were still awake at this hour? He could hear them talking down in the living room.

“I do feel bad for Lance,” said his mom, “But considering it’s always been his clothes that went missing I’ve always the suspected the Hermit has -”

“I believe you’re right,” said his dad.

“Have you told anyone? What you suspect?”

“No. Have you?” 

“I worry what people would do with that information.”

“I know what the Sheriff would be obligated to do. Whether it would be the right thing, I’m unsure.”

“If it was me…,” Lance’s mom trailed off then Lance heard what sounded like crying. “I just want to help him.”

“I know, mi amor. I know.”

Slowly Lance crept back upstairs to his room. His parents were crazy. Wanting to help someone who breaks into their home and steals things. This could only mean one thing: Brainwashing.

Fortunately, Lance had a plan to break his parents free from the Hermits mind control and get this man in jail where he belonged. He was going to set a trap, Home Alone style.

********

Okay, so maybe Lance wasn’t very good at setting up Home Alone traps. They didn’t live in a cold climate so the water he poured outside to form ice just dried up. He didn’t know what Kevin had used to make the door handle burning hot so he had to improvise, but when his dad caught him trying to heat the back door handle with a lighter he got sent to his room.

Same thing happened when he tried to tie a paint can to a rope and swing it from the second floor bannister.

“I know what you’re doing,” said Rachel, visiting him while he was grounded in his room for the fourth weekend in a row.

“And you want in?”

“No. It’s not my stuff he’s taking. Why should I care?”

Thing is, Lance needed some kind of help.

************

“Hey, what are you reading?” asked Lance, sitting down beside Katie.

“I don’t do small talk,” she said, not looking up.

“I need a security system.”

“Now you’re talking,” said Katie, putting her book down. “What did you have in mind?”

“A tripwire that’ll alert me when someone enters our pantry.”

“Trying to catch the Hermit?” asked Katie.

“Yeah, how did you -?”

“You should talk to Old Man Iverson. He’s been trying to catch the guy for years.”

“Well, I’m going to catch him first!” declared Lance. “And you’re going to help me.”

********

What Katie gave him was a simple motion detector. “Hide it in your pantry near the door and turn it on every night before bed,” she’d explained. The other part was a small device that beeped when the alarm was triggered. Lance took it to bed and hid it under his pillow. 

It was weeks of nothing. Lance was starting to get tired of setting the alarm every night. It meant he had to wait until his parents went to bed to sneak down. Some nights they were up later than others, speaking in hushed whispers in the living room while Lance sat at the top of the stairs, eavesdropping, willing them to wrap it up.

“He’s been taking less food lately…”

“The Garretts and the Holts said the same thing. Only half of what usually goes missing was taken over the past couple visits.”

“Oh Miguel… what if - ?” But Lance never heard what his mom thought as her words dissolved into sobs.

“Oh, Rosa, I know... ,” said his father, “I can’t even imagine… as a parent...”

Lance rolled his eyes. He was sick of the Hermit sympathy. Feel bad for your son who lost all his stuff. Not some creepy old man. He would catch the Hermit in the act and send him to jail and then his parents would see.

**********

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Lance woke up with a start, disoriented. He thought it was his alarm to get up for school, but it was still dark in his room. That’s when he suddenly remembered.

“The Hermit!”

Lance jumped out of bed. Remembering to be quiet so the Hermit didn’t hear him coming, he grabbed his baseball bat for self-defense then slowly opened his door.  
Quietly, he tiptoed downstairs. When he got to the bottom he could see the soft glow in the hall travelling from the light inside the kitchen pantry.

He entered the kitchen and moved slowly towards the pantry where the door stood slightly ajar. There was rustling inside that made him freeze with fear.. Lance could hear his heart pounding in his chest and felt certain the Hermit would hear it too.

Part of him told him to turn around, go into the living room and call the police. That was the point, wasn’t it? To get the Hermit caught so he wouldn’t come back.

But… maybe he could threaten him instead. Just let him know he wasn’t welcome and that would be enough.

The Sheriff would probably take too long anyway. Besides… no one had ever seen the Hermit… imagine the bragging rights Lance would have if he not only saw the Hermit, but scared him off.

The idea of being the most popular kid in fifth grade calmed Lance right down and solidified his resolve. He gripped firm on the handle of the bat slung over his shoulder, set his meanest face, and side jumped into the doorway.

“Freeze, sucka!” yelled Lance. His eyeline was up, assuming he was confronting the version of the Hermit he’d built up in his head: Seven feet tall, grizzled beard, dressed as a lumberjack for some reason…

And for a second there he thought no one was in the pantry at all (nearly jumped back to his ghost theory) when his eyeline drifted down and he spotted exactly who was in his pantry, currently frozen just as instructed. One hand on a jar of peanut butter, the other holding open a backpack.

“Wait...” said Lance, his grip loosening on the bat. “You’re just a --”

They moved faster than Lance could register. Suddenly the bat was clanging on the ground as he was pulled by the front of the shirt fully into the pantry then pushed back against the shelves so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of him. 

Shocked by the impact, Lance tried to keel forward, but there was a strong hand pressing against his chest. Before he could speak in protest, a second hand was slapped over his mouth.

Lance was pinned. Pinned by the same person who had broken into his pantry. Pinned by…

“You’re just a kid!” exclaimed Lance, though his mouth was covered so it just sounded like muffled nonsense.

The kid narrowed his eyes, not understanding what Lance had said, but not releasing him either. Their eyes were a shade Lance had never seen before, they looked almost purple and were framed by thick black lashes.

Held in one place Lance started to notice other details of his capture’s appearance. Their hair looked like it had been short once, but had grown out long and unruly. Their clothes looked faded and tattered. Lance’s gaze looked down at the sleeved arm of the hand that covered his mouth. The cuff of their sweater was up past their wrist like it was either a cropped look or far too small for them.

The sweater was red…

It clicked for Lance. He hadn’t seen that sweater in years, but now he recognized it as his own. 

Lance wanted to say something along the lines of, “You’re wearing my clothes!” but the kid’s head turned as if detecting a sound Lance had missed. Lance focused his attention on listening too and then he heard it too. Someone heavy was coming down the stairs.

One of Lance’s parents was up!

The kid’s eyes widened in fear. Their grip had loosened so Lance took it as an opportunity to break free. When he was out and near the door, the kid looked at him like they were going to grab him again, but Lance quickly said, “Stay here. I’ll get rid of ‘em.” Then Lance slipped out of the pantry before they could grab him or protest.

Lance hightailed it out of the kitchen and into the living room to stand at the bottom of the staircase.

“Mijo,” said his dad, pausing on the stairs and squinting into the dark.

“Hey dad, what are you doing up?”

“I heard a banging noise… I’m guessing now that was you.”

“Yeah, I just slipped downstairs for a little snacky snack,” lied Lance adding a little innocent hum at the end.

“Okay…,” said his dad, slowly. “Just keep it down and you know… try not to snack at night.”

“Because I might run into the Hermit, right?” said Lance, speeding through his words and hoping it was coming off like a joke. Doubting it was convincing enough, he added in a very forced, very awkward laugh.

His dad stared at him for a second then said, “Maybe lay off the sugary late night snacks too.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Let’s go back to bed,” suggested his dad, turning around on the stairs.

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute. I think I just left the lid off the, uh, cereal.” Wait, what?

“Uh, okay,” said his dad. “Good night.”

“Night!” called Lance, louder than he should’ve, but he didn’t see his dad’s disapproving look as he was already rushing back into the kitchen.

The pantry was empty. A jar of peanut butter and Lance’s baseball bat left on the ground. Lance could feel a breeze on the back of his head and turned to see the kitchen window open.

*********

“Lance, wake up!”

Lance was nudged awake by his usual school bus seatmate, Hunk. “Are we almost home?” yawned Lance.

“No, we’re on our way to school.”

Lance groaned his disapproval. “Then why did you wake me up?” He was exhausted. He’d never gotten back to sleep after the incident in the pantry. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kid he’d caught in there with the violet eyes…

“Lance!”

“Ah!” Lance had drifted off again.

“Dude, why are you so tired?” asked Katie from the seat in front of him. Suddenly her eyes widened. “Wait, did the alarm go off last night? Did you do it? Did you see the Hermit in person?”

Katie was not quiet when she spoke and kids several rows up were all spinning around to look at Lance, curious to hear his answer.

Lance opened his mouth. This was one of the goals. Become popular. More than that, he had a twist to the Hermit story that no one had ever heard before. That the Hermit, somehow, was a kid just like them.

… and dressed in Lance’s old red sweater…

“It did, but it was a false alarm.” Lance watched as a wave of heads turned back to the face the front, his opportunity for fame lost. “I don’t think I’m going to catch him.”

“You should give it back then,” said Katie.

“What? Why?” asked Lance. He’d had every intent to use that alarm to catch the kid again.

“Because if you can’t catch him, I will,” said Katie with a confident grin.

Something about that made Lance feel uneasy.

“What does… he usually take from your house? The Hermit, I mean.”

“Fresh veggies,” said Hunk, having thought this was a general question. “But my mom grows so many in her gardens that we’re happy to give some of the extras away.”

Lance kept his eyes on Katie, curious about her answer.

“He took a radio once and some tools, but normally if he stops by he takes boxes of these Japanese power bars my older brother swears by.” She rolled her eyes. “My dad buys in bulk online so it’s no big deal if a couple boxes go missing once a month.”  
Power bars… interesting...

********

“Are you… cleaning out your closet?” asked Veronica. She’d stopped by Lance’s room to lean against the doorway and gawk like she couldn’t believe her own eyes.

“Yeah,” said Lance, tucking a black hoodie into the garbage bag beside him, “Some of this stuff I never wear.”

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Veronica, looking at where he’d just put the hoodie.

“It’s just boring looking. No colours, no logo. My outfits need sparkle.” Lance wiggled his fingers to demonstrate this.

Veronica snorted. “Did mom ask you to do this?”

“No,” said Lance, “I came up with this idea on my own.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have a fever or something?”

Lance made an exasperated noise. “No, do I need to be out of my mind to act mature and clean my closet? Maybe this is the new me. Maybe this is what puberty has changed.”

“Yeah, that’s not what puberty does,” mumbled Veronica, before peeling herself off the doorframe and leaving Lance to his cleaning.

Lance went back to the task at hand and picked out a couple shirts that were too dark for him to find interesting. He also found a pair of jeans that were too tight. Shoes were harder to part with, but he found a pair of hikers with steel toes he rarely wore. Besides, next time his dad wanted him to help carry big heavy farm equipment that might drop and break his toes, Lance had an excuse not to.

**********

Keith was worried about hitting this house. He’d even been staking it out for longer than usual. It had been two hours since he’d seen the last light go out. Everyone would be long asleep.

He let out a shaky breath. He had to move. He was wasting the cover of dark and he hadn’t even gotten started on his rounds yet.

He double checked his knife once more. Dad always said he never brought a weapon with him. “It’s far better to get caught empty handed than with a weapon.” But dad never got caught once and Keith didn’t feel safe without bringing something for protection. That boy had a baseball bat afterall. 

Even if he didn’t use it...

As Keith silently moved in the shadows towards the house, he summoned his dad’s voice into his head. “The McClains are kind people. I broke the latch on their kitchen window years ago and they never fixed it. They buy extra of what they know I’ll take and leave it in a special spot for me in the pantry. They’ve never given me a lick of trouble.”

Keith let this calm him as he opened the window and hoisted himself inside. It was an easy fit, being so much smaller than his Pops. He moved extra slow and quiet this time, worrying he’d wake up that kid again.

So much for never giving trouble… but then he’d covered for Keith.

He shook off the memory. The whole thing had been a blur for him as he’d relied on instincts alone to get him out of a situation he’d never dreamed of encountering.

All that stuck in his memory was blue eyes and the words “freeze, sucka!”

Keith didn’t turn the light on in the pantry this time, didn’t risk it. Instead, he let his dark adjusted eyes guide him to the usual spot with the supplies left for him. There it was: two jars of peanut butter, a sack of oats, and a bag of apples. Keith put the oats in his bag first then one jar of peanut butter, moving the other aside so they’d know he didn’t want it. Next, he tore into the bag of apples and one by one slipped half into his backpack. The full bag and the extra jar would be too much to carry right now even if he’d regret not having them later…

Keith pushed the half bag of apple back further so they wouldn’t roll out onto the ground. There was crinkle.

Something was sitting behind the apples on the shelf. Curious, Keith pushed a hand towards the back and felt a plastic bag with a bit of squish to it.

Was this… for him?

Instinctively, Keith looked up to the ceiling. He listened, half expecting to hear someone moving up there.

Nothing.

Still… he couldn’t risk opening the bag in here. The sound alone…

Without thinking further, Keith grabbed the plastic bag off the shelf and quickly stuffed it down into his backpack. He filled up the rest of it and he could only get it so far zipped before it caught on the plastic.

Good enough.

Keith had to move. Toss the backpack out, slip through the window. Pick it up and run. Run until he had cover behind the barn.

He took another glance at the house. Windows still dark. No one following him.

When he’d calmed a bit he dared open it up.

It was… clothing? And a pair of shoes. That’s what made it so bulky. At the bottom there was a small box with a note taped to it. The writing was a bit sloppy, but even in the dark Keith was able to read it:

The Holt house on Cherry Lane has a security system. Don’t go there anymore.

Panic gripped Keith. A security system? His dad had always said folk ‘round here are trusting and don’t bother with that big city tech. The only camera he needed to avoid was at the summer camp. If people were starting to get protective of their property, it meant bad news for Keith.

Keith pushed away his worry for another time and looked down at the note again. It was signed:

Lance

Lance…

The boy in the pantry with the blue eyes who uses words like “sucka” was named Lance… and he’d given Keith his clothes.

A memory surfaced in Keith’s head of the day his dad had told him the truth of how they lived. Up until then Keith had believed everything their dad brought home had come from his exchanging money for it. That’s how it worked in the books Keith had read. He remembered the feeling of shame that had swept over him when his dad had explained to him how he would take what he needed from other people’s home while they were sleeping.

“But don’t you feel…. Embarrassed?” asked Keith. It’s all he could feel finding out they lived by stealing from others.

“No,” said his dad, keeping his smile on his face. “It makes me feel blessed knowing how many people are willing to share what they have even if it’s just something small. That’s how the world should be. Money is just pieces of paper. Without it we’d all be better off, free to give and receive whatever is needed.”

‘It’s a blessing,’ thought Keith, looking at the note through blurred eyes. Lance had written something below his name:

P.s. I’m sorry I couldn’t get the kind you like.

Confused, Keith pulled the note off the box to see what it was. It was a box of power bars. Not the ones with the funny writing he liked, but at least that meant he could skip the house on Cherry Lane which meant Lance had thought of this.

To have someone thinking about Keith…

It was a long while before the strange grip in his chest released and Keith was able to pack up and move on.


	2. Are you immortal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance sets another trap and catches himself a friend.

Lance had checked the pantry first thing every morning for three weeks. This morning he’d been so certain he’d see the food just as he’d left it, strategically covering the bag he’d stashed there, that his eyes fooled him for a moment and he turned to leave before doing a double take.

Most of the food was gone and so was the bag of clothes!

Lance’s chest inflated. He didn’t know what this feeling was, but he felt energized!

*******

Lance thought that was it. He did a thing that was nice for the Hermit (two things if you count not ratting them out to his parents… Oh! Three things if you count not telling everyone the Hermit is a kid!) So now he could let it go, right? 

Beyond hinting to his mom that the Hermit might like some power bars to go with them oats or planning on donating his clothes next time he outgrew his jeans (or his abula gives him another boring button up shirt,) Lance didn’t really need to think about this anymore, right? He could go the route of everyone else in the rural community and not think about the Hermit beyond the obligatory donations…

But…

(and this was a big BUT)

Why was the Hermit a kid????!!! And they looked the same age as Lance, but this was somehow his life? Late night cat burglary? 

Lance wanted to let it go. But he also wanted to see the kid again… And he did manage the first thing… until he snapped and did the second thing.

The problem was there was no set date for the Hermit to come back. Lance just had the space of time between the first incident and the second time to go by which had been about three and a half weeks. So Lance did the whole “letting go” thing for three weeks.

Then he did the “having a stake out” thing for the next week and a half.

Lance couldn’t ask for Katie’s help again, not without letting her know what was going on so he was stuck using his own brain (next to useless) to come up with a plan. His plan was to stay awake every night and ‘listen’ for the Hermit. And for three nights in a row he tried and for three nights in a row he woke up the next morning and realized he’d slept.

Aw heck…

The only comfort was the Hermit food in the pantry his mom had since replaced was still there meaning he hadn’t missed the visit.

Obviously this wasn’t working and he needed a system where he could wake up when the Hermit came. So he told his parents a lie about being able to hear squirrels in the attic above his bedroom and declared he was going to start sleeping in the living room.

“Are you sure this is better than a few squirrels running around?” asked his mom as she tucked him in on the couch.

“They’re really loud,” insisted Lance. “They wake me up.”

His mother didn’t say anything, but he caught her glance towards the kitchen.

“Geez mom, I’m not going to get murdered by the Hermit. You’re the one who insists he’s harmless!”

“He is,” said his mom, “Just… if you hear a noise...”

“The Hermit goes through the kitchen window and goes straight to the pantry. He’s not going to come into the living room. Unless he wants to steal my blanket again. In which case he’ll have to play tug of war with me for it and I’m pretty strong. I did three pushups in gym class yesterday!”

His mom rolled her eyes and chuckled. “You’re very strong, mijo.” She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “Buenas noches.”

Lance woke himself up a lot that night thinking he heard a noise, but whenever he listened there was nothing. After a week he got used to sleeping soundly on the couch and had to trust that, the second part of this new plan, his alarm system would wake him up. 

*********

Keith slipped in through the unlatched window. This house still made him weary. It was the only place he’d ever been caught. Still, he was down to almost nothing to eat and he needed to restock before he got too weak to make the walk.

He crept across the kitchen floor and into the pantry, once again not touching the light. He put his backpack down at his feet and unzipped it. He touched the knife sheathed at his belt to reassure himself it was still there. Satisfied, he reached for the peanut butter, sliding it slowly off the shelf so as not to make a sound.

But… there was a dragging sound anyway like he was pulling something extra along. Keith didn’t understand what it was until he had the peanut butter off the shelf and something came swinging down with it, attached to a string tied around the jar, and knocked against Keith’s side. 

The tie was not secure and the extra object dropped to the floor with a BANG!

What’s worse was it started making noise like a bad beatbox.

“Pull it!...Flick it!...Twist it!...Bop it!”

What the heck? Keith dropped down to his knees, trying in vain to shut the darn thing up.

“Spin it!... Bop it!”

Keith heard footsteps racing into the kitchen. He was caught. Caught again in the same house! How could he let this happen?

There in the pantry doorway was the same boy as before, dressed in pajamas, short hair sticking up, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. 

Lance.

That had been the name written in messy handwriting on the note.

Keith’s hand instinctively moved to his knife. He didn’t want to do this, but he needed to get past this boy and get out.

“Are you immortal?”

He… what? The question that burst from the boy’s mouth was so confusing Keith paused, hand just touching the hilt of his knife.

When it was obvious Keith was not going to answer that insane question Lance started advancing and speaking rapidly. “My parents said you’ve been breaking into our house and stealing food for twenty years, but you look like you’re my age so how is that possible? Are you immortal? Some kind of fairy or wood creature? Or are you like Benjamin Button and you age backwards? Or are you just really short? Seriously how old are you?”

Lance had advanced further until he was within a foot of him. Keith had slowly raised himself to standing, feeling trapped and unsure of what to do. He was so thrown off from Lance’s rapid fire questions that he said, “Th-thirteen.”

His voice came out like a croak and he cleared his throat right after. The realization that he likely hadn’t said a word out loud in weeks hit Keith with a painful prang inside his chest.

“I’m twelve!” said Lance, like their closeness in age was exciting to him. “I haven’t seen you at school. Do you not go to school? Where are your parents? Why are you stealing things? You can’t be the Hermit because you’re not old enough. Are you a copycat? What happened to the real Hermit? I’m Lance by the way, what’s your name?”

Telling Lance his name would be the stupidest move, wouldn’t it?

He knew it was bad to give up his identity to a stranger, but… everyone in the world was a stranger and in that moment Keith realized not a single person knew his name. The longing to be known overwhelmed him.

“Keith…,” he said, quietly, shifting his eyes down in case Lance could see the tears pooling there, even in the dark.

“Wow Keith. Okay, I wasn’t sure if you were a boy or… You’re a boy right? I guess I shouldn’t assume because of the name.”

Keith just nodded in response.

“Hey, that’s cool,” said Lance, “So, uh…”

“It was my dad,” said Keith, cringing at the sound of his croaky, underused voice. “My dad was the one that would break in. But he wasn’t a Hermit.” His voice gained power as he went even though he talked to his hiking boots instead of looking up. “He lived away from everyone else, but he wasn’t alone. He had me.”

“He… had you?” said Lance, slow and quiet. “Did he…?” Keith winced, not wanting to hear the words. “Keith, are you alone?”

Every bit of strength left Keith’s body. His hand slipped from the hilt of his knife as his knees gave way and he dropped to the ground. All at once he was sobbing, choking on his own cries, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Keith was alone.

He’d never heard the words spoken out loud before. He hadn’t heard anyone say anything to him, besides Lance, in months.

Keith was so, so, so alone.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” sputtered Lance looking at the boy crying on his pantry floor. He felt a lump in his own throat, tears pricking at his own eyes. He hadn’t meant to make him cry. He’d just been curious. He’d just… wanted to see him again.

Heart aching, Lance dropped down to his knees beside the crying boy. Without even thinking he wrapped himself around him in a hug.

“Get off!” snapped Keith, shoving Lance back. 

“Sorry,” said Lance, quickly. “I should’ve… asked if you were a hugger.”

Keith winced like this also hit some deep wound inside him and the tears started flowing fresh. What was Lance supposed to do to comfort him if he couldn’t hug him?

An idea struck him. “Wait, here!”

Lance left. Walked out of the pantry. Keith knew this was his opportunity to escape. To dash for the window and get out of here while he had the chance. But… his body felt so heavy. So helpless. And he wondered what the point of moving was…

Lance came padding back into the pantry. Keith didn’t look up at him. He worried he’d try to hug him again. He hadn’t liked how he’d reacted to being touched. No one had touched him in months and he wasn’t sure how to accept it. To take affection from someone he just met. 

“Here!” said Lance, brightly.

Keith wondered what he meant and then he felt something soft land around his shoulders. A blanket. Lance didn’t just leave it draped over Keith, but tucked in the edges under him so he was wrapped up like in a cocoon. Keith would’ve thought the restraint would scare him. Would have him reaching for his knife, but it felt…. Safe.

Keith rubbed his cheek against the fleece edge. He’d never felt anything so soft before.

“Nice, right?” said Lance. “You can’t see but it has a Husky on it.” Keith liked wolves better. “You can take it if you like it.”

“I have one,” said Keith, quietly.

“So you… have a place you live?”

“Yeah…,” said Keith, worried he’d ask for specifics.

“And it’s… safe?”

“Yes,” said Keith firmly.

“It’s just…” began Lance. Keith looked him in the face to see him gnawing on his lip and looking thoughtful. “You could live here if you wanted,” said Lance, quickly. “My parents have so many kids, what’s one more? I bet they wouldn’t even notice if you just showed up at the breakfast table. If they were like ‘who is that?’ I’d be all, ‘Don’t you remember my brother Keith? You had him after Rachel, but before me. Wow, mom and dad. Getting old.’” Lance laughed like what he said was funny. Keith didn’t understand the joke. 

“But really,” said Lance, “they’d take you in, in a heartbeat. You could stay in my room and come to school with me and…” Lance tapered off as he noticed Keith silently shaking his head.

Lance had just met Keith and he was… what? Asking him to live his life? Keith had his own life. It was just… different. And maybe it hurt right now, but his dad had always said there’s always something to be grateful for if you take the time to be thankful.

Crying had left Keith exhausted so he let his head drop back against a pantry shelf. He needed to get up and go, but his energy was just… gone.

Lance had stopped talking and was just silently watching Keith, nervously fiddling with the sleeve of his pj top.

“I’m sorry,” said Lance quietly, apologizing for the hundredth time tonight. “I feel like I should offer you something… if I knew what you needed.”

Keith needed to go home. Should’ve said as much, but the blanket felt warm and Lance had scooted himself beside Keith and once he shifted just a bit, their knees touched which felt… good.

He’d leave in a minute.

Lance watched Keith fall asleep with rapt fascination. The hood of his sweater was poking out the blanket. The same black hoodie Lance had gifted him weeks ago. His black hair was still overgrown, especially in the back, but it wasn’t ugly. His dark eyelashes dusted his pale cheeks as he slept. Not that Lance was studying him he could see Keith looked Asian, but… also not? Maybe biracial like Lance?

He was tired too, but his mind was racing, going over the details he’d learned about Keith. Meanwhile, his eyes were dead set on committing him to memory. He’d had such a poor look at him the first time. He felt it so important to remember him.

Lance eventually fell asleep with these thoughts. He woke up when it was light enough for him to see his surroundings with the fleece blanket tucked around him. The food was gone and so was the Bop It. Keith had stolen Lance’s Bop It?!

**********

Lance told no one about Keith. This was hard because part of him thought if a kid was living alone he ought to tell an adult, but a much bigger and louder part of him thought that telling on Keith would betray his trust and open him up to consequences he didn’t understand.

“What happens if a kid's parents die and there’s no one to take care of him?” asked Lance one day at the dinner table.

“I wouldn’t worry, mijo,” said his dad, “your mother and I aren’t going anywhere.”

“I don’t mean me,” said Lance. “Just… what if there’s a kid with no parents?”

“A family member or friend might adopt him,” said his mother.

“But what if there’s no one. Like, no one at all then what?”

His dad raised his eyebrow and for a moment Lance worried he’d demand to know where this hypothetical question was coming from rather than answer, but then he said, “It would be up to the state.”

“What does that mean?”

“The police would take the kid,” said his mother, “and they would get someone from Child Services to find a foster home for him.”

“Right… and a foster home is?”

“A temporary home for kids who don’t have a home with parents or guardians.”

Lance frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. “And how do they decide which foster home?”

“It’s complicated,” said his mother.

“It won’t happen to you,” said his father. “Luis is old enough to take care of you if anything happened to us.”

Luis had moved out last month to live with his fiancé, Lisa. Of course Lance wasn’t worried about himself at all.

********

“What is going on here?!” demanded Lance.

“Huh?” asked Rachel, looking up from her math homework.

“The food is still there!” exclaimed Lance, throwing his arm out towards the shelf.

“And?” asked Rachel.

“It’s been sitting there for two months! The apples are starting to go bad!”

“I can replace the apples,” said his mom, wiping her hands on her apron.

“That’s not the point. Where is the Hermit? Why isn’t he picking up his food?”

“He’s not always consistent,” said his dad, walking in from the back door.

“Maybe… or maybe he’s hurt or injured or worse,” said Lance. “We should send out a search party.

“Only you would send out a search party for someone who doesn’t want to be found,” scoffed Rachel.

“I wouldn’t worry, mijo,” said Lance's mother. “I ran into Mrs. Garrett the other day and she said veggies have been going missing as usual. The Hermit’s probably just visiting other houses for now.”

“Iverson said the summer camp was hit again,” said Lance’s dad. “He always takes the extra stock when the season ends.”

“What’s wrong with our house?” asked Lance striding over to the window. “We’ve got power bars! We’ve got peanut butter! We’ve got a window that doesn’t latch!” Lance pushed on the window to demonstrate. It didn’t move. “What the hell?”

“Language, mijo,” warned his dad.

“Did you fix the latch?!” demanded Lance, whirling on him.

“I did not,” said his dad calmly.

“Mom?”

“Me neither.”

“... Rachel?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“No one in the house fixed it,” said his dad, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“But then…?”

“He broke it twenty years ago. I guess he felt it was time to repair it,” said his dad, taking a sip.

Lance shook his head in disbelief. Keith’s DAD had broken the window. Had Keith fixed it? And now he wasn’t coming around anymore?

“This is stupid!” declared Lance. “Now he can’t get in!”

“I leave it unlocked and open at night,” said Lance’s mom, calmly. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to come back.”

“But why?” cried out Lance, fearing he knew exactly why.

“Pffft,” snorted Rachel, “Only you would be upset that a stranger isn’t breaking into our house anymore.”

**********

Keith’s dad had always said he only takes and never leaves anything.

“Why though?” Keith had often asked. “Shouldn’t we thank them somehow?”

“If I left anything, it would be proof that I exist. I can’t take that chance.”

“But what do they get out of it?”

“Someday you’ll learn, Keith. It feels good to help someone. That’s what they get in return.”

Some part of Keith wanted to live by his dad’s rules. To honour him by carrying on exactly like him, but… there were things that never sat right with him and he found it hard to ignore.

He was not his dad. He was his own person and, as scary as it was, he was completely free to set his own path.

So Keith looked for opportunities to give back. He’d always been good at fixing things. Loved to tinker and take things apart and put them back together. Looked for answers in books whenever he couldn’t figure something out himself. 

He fixed the latch on the McClain window when he knew they’d gone to the lake for a long weekend. It was a small thing. It wouldn’t make up for what they’d given him, but… it was something and that felt good.

The summer camp had a creaky fense. He oiled it once in the dead of night.

The Garretts had a wonderful garden, but he noticed their tomato plants weren’t supported correctly and they’d ended up sagging last summer and losing some of the crop. Keith found wire in their shed and added extra support.

Here and there he found little repairs needed at the houses he frequented and worked on them quietly in the dark.

He hadn’t gone back to the Holts since Lance had warned him, but he did go to the edge of their driveway and fixed their mailbox so it stopped leaning to one side and hanging open.

It was amazing how good doing these little things made Keith feel. He finally understood what his dad had told him, about how helping others felt good and it helped ease his own guilt over taking supplies. It also helped him understand why Lance had told him he wanted to offer him something. He just didn’t know what he needed.

Fall was coming. Crops were ready to harvest. Keith wanted to get his hands on fresh vegetables before they were gone for the season. That meant another visit to the Garrett’s garden.

Keith was filling up his backpack with those nice looking tomatoes when a flashlight suddenly flicked on, capturing him in its beam. Keith froze, panicked over being caught.

“Keith, how dare you,” seethed a voice.

“Lance?” said Keith, squinting into the beam. He knew that voice. Of course, he’d only ever heard two voices in his life, how could he not recognize Lance’s voice?

“What are you doing here?” demanded Lance, walking off the porch and into the garden (bare feet and all.)

“I could ask you that,” said Keith, finally able to see now that Lance had dropped the beam down to the ground.

“I’m having a sleepover at my best friend’s house,” said Lance like Keith should’ve known this. Like he should know Lance had a best friend… or that the Garretts had a kid. Or what a sleepover was…

“I’m picking tomatoes.”

“Obviously,” said Lance, throwing his arms out. “But why are you taking food from here and not my house?”

“They have… tomatoes,” said Keith confused.

“You never came back!” said Lance, emotion rising in his voice. “You fixed our window and never came back to our house. We left it open for you, Keith! And we bought you apples and they went bad and then we bought more and they went bad. And I had some shirts I stashed for you plus these really good snack cakes with the, like, weird writing on it that made me think of you and you just never came back!”

Keith was thrown. “But… you were there.”

“Exactly! I was there and I waited and I wanted to see you again!”

“Why?” asked Keith. He wasn’t supposed to be seen. Lance was a risk to his safety. Didn’t he understand that?

“Because we’re friends, Keith!” said Lance, his cheeks red. 

Keith stared at Lance. They were… what?

“Really? No reaction?”

Keith sighed. He bent to zip up his bag, hoisted it over his shoulder, and started walking.

“Where are you going?” demanded Lance, the flashlight beam bouncing around Keith’s feet.

“You’re going to get me caught,” said Keith, trying to control his annoyance.

“And that’s so important you can’t be friends with me?” 

Keith spun around, officially ticked off. “You can come with me. You just need to not yell at me near the house.”

Lance followed Keith, unsure how to process this invitation to follow him. They weren’t… walking all the way to the Bad Lands, were they?

It was a ten minutes walk when they found themselves inside the Garretts’ pumpkin patch. Visible from here was the corn field that Hunk’s family was busy carving into a corn maze. One of the best attractions around for this time of year… which says a lot about where they live.

Keith suddenly sat himself down on top of a pumpkin. Lance expected him to gesture for him to sit too, but Keith didn’t have such manners. Lance went ahead and sat down on the pumpkin anyway.

Lance waited for Keith to speak. The silence stretched out for minutes. Annoyed Lance snorted.

“What?” said Keith.

“Aren’t you going to start?”

“Why?”

“Because I already said so many words and you said so few. It definitely doesn’t feel even.”

“You always talk the most,” said Keith softly. His voice always sounded so croaky like he wasn’t used to using it.

“You could change that. You have the power.”

Keith looked ahead of him when he did speak. He never really looked Lance in the eye unless he was pinning him against a shelf. “Why do you want to be friends with me?”

“Because you’re so popular and I need cool points.”

Keith’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Because you’re interesting, dummy,” said Lance with an eye roll. “Also, I don’t see anyone lining up for the job. Only applicant.”

“I don’t… know anybody else.”

“That was actually my joke,” said Lance. Keith didn’t seem to get sarcasm. Lance sighed. “I guess it comes down to if you want a friend?”

“Are you going to tell people about me?” asked Keith.

“I haven’t yet,” said Lance.

“Are you going to make me move in with you?”

Lance laughed, but quickly realized Keith was worried about this. “No, dude. I mean… the offer stands okay. My parents would totally be down. They’d say you’re our cousin from the old country. Explain your bad manners too…”

“What bad manners?” asked Keith, using the pumpkin opposite him to wipe mud off the bottom of his hikers.

“It’s an open invitation, but I won’t make you do anything or tell your secret.”

“Then what do you want?” asked Keith, suspicion rising in his voice.

“For you to come back to my place and wake me up when you visit so we can talk or hangout.”

Lance watched Keith’s eyes widen.

“Is that scary or something.”

“I’m not scared,” said Keith, defensively.

“Sarcasm again,” said Lance, shaking his head.

“I just… I never had a friend before.”

“I can tell,” said Lance with a laugh. “But I’m willing to help you learn. What do you say? Friends?” Lance held out his hand for Keith to shake.

Keith looked at it then stood up, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Yeah, okay,” he said while walking away, leaving Lance hanging.

Lance looked down at his hand still poised to shake. “We’ll work on it,” he muttered before tucking it away and getting back up. To his surprise Keith was already jogging off, not sparing a glance back at him. Yep. Terrible manners.

“Bye!” Lance called after him. When he didn’t turn he yelled louder, “BYE!” This won him one Keith spin around to look at him then spin right back to keep walking. Okay, Lance would take that.

***********

Based on Lance’s previous interactions with Keith, he fully expected to not see him again. Still Lance opened the window each night and went to sleep on the couch and to his complete surprise a few nights later he was woken up to, “Lance?”

Lance opened his eyes to find Keith standing over him at the end of the couch like a serial killer.

“Keith?” said Lance, involuntarily turtling down into his blankets. “You here to kill me?”

“I’m here to… uh, friend?”

“Really?” gasped Lance, sitting straight up and tossing his covers off. “That’s awesome!”

“Okay,” said Keith, shifting his eyes around the living room. “How do we…?”

Lance was captivated for a moment, just drinking in the sight of Keith for real inside his house (and not his pantry for once.) He was dressed in Lance’s hand-me-downs again. Black hoodie, skinny jeans, and hikers. Lance had thought the outfit was too dull for himself, but it looked right on Keith whenever he saw him in it.

How did Keith wash his clothes?

“Lance,” said Keith, bothered enough by Lance’s silent gawking to actually look him in the eye. “You invited me so…”

“Okay, hold on,” said Lance, popping to standing.

Lance tucked his bare feet into a pair of boots and pulled a sweater over his head then he unlocked the front door and led Keith back outside. Keith dawdled along, walking behind Lance instead of beside him. Lance let it be. He’d thought a lot about it over the past few days, how Keith didn’t know how to interact with people. He would do his best not to point it out unless it was something big that would need to be changed. Otherwise he risked making Keith feel bad.

There was a little wooded area on their property. Lance liked to play there with his siblings… at least he had until they all became teenagers and started texting and dating and basically being boring and whiny all the time. But it was the perfect setting for a friend date.

“Check it out,” said Lance, leading Keith right up to the pond where the woods dipped down to.

“Okay,” said Keith, unimpressed. “It’s water.”

“I haven’t done the impressive thing yet,” said Lance, squatting down to look for a flat stone. When he found a nice one he picked it up, sent a grin Keith’s way (which got no reaction,) and tossed it at the pond. “One… two…. Three, four five,” said Lance, counting the skips. “Pretty cool, hey?”

“What is this?” asked Keith with an almost disapproving shrug.

“Stone skipping,” said Lance, trying to keep the positive energy flowing. “There’s all sorts of tricks to it. You have to find a flat stone that’s round around the edges and there’s a certain way to throw it…” While he was explaining the science of it, Keith picked up a rock right in front of his feet and threw it at the pond.

“One… two… three… four, five, sixeseveneight,” counted Keith.

“But…,” muttered Lance. Then he spun on Keith, livid. “You’ve done this before!”

“How could I have done this before?” asked Keith, picking up another rock and skipping this one just as many times. “Didn’t you invent this game?”

“Me?” gasped Lance. “Stone skipping is an ancient art form!”

“If you say so,” said Keith, tossing another stone and counting ten skips this time. “Kinda fun though.”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” said Lance, picking up another rock. He sunk it, but still smiled. Did Keith just admit he was having fun?

They kept throwing and eventually Lance started throwing good stones again and they got really competitive trying to outdo the other. Lance at one point threw a twenty skip (his personal record!) only to have Keith throw twenty-one right after.

“I think we’re out of good stones,” mumbled Lance.

“We could just throw big ones?” suggested Keith.

“Yeah!”

Big rocks go splash and that is fun.

“So… did your dad really never teach you how to skip rocks?” asked Lance.

“Weren’t near water,” said Keith.

“So you do live in the Bad Lands?”

Keith looked at him with suspicion again.

Lance sighed. “Look you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want. I’m just curious and want to get to know you.”

“Why?” asked Keith, dropping a big rock into the water with a satisfying splash.

“Okay, ‘why’ can’t be your standard answer every time I’m nice to you and if you respond to that with ‘why’ then friendship off.” Keith looked so baffled, Lance had to backtrack. “That was a joke. Friendship still on even if you ask ‘why.’”

“I don’t know what to say,” mumbled Keith.

At this point it occured to Lance that Keith never had to talk about himself because the only person he ever interacted with already knew everything about him.

“How about I just ask you yes or no questions,” said Lance, sitting down on a moss covered log. “That’ll make it easy for you.”

“‘Kay,” said Keith with a shrug.

“Do you have a pet?”

“Yeah.”

Lance perked up. “Okay, shocking answer right off the bat. Is it a dog?”

“No.”

“Cat?”

“No.”

Lance paused. What else…? “Turtle?”

“No.”

“Okay, mystery pet. You know you could just tell me.”

“You’re breaking your own rules,” said Keith, sitting down on the rocky shore.

“Fair enough. Okay… is your mom alive?”

Keith stared at the ground.

“Yes…?”

“I dunno,” mumbled Keith.

“You don’t… know?”

“I guess she took off after I was born so… maybe?”

Lance took a second to process this. So Keith’s mom abandoned him and his dad was an anti-social hermit? “Do you want to meet her?”

“No.”

“Why not?” pressed Lance.

“That’s not a yes or no question,” said Keith, popping up to standing.

“Sorry. I just… The no threw me.”

“I don’t wanna meet anyone,” mumbled Keith, tracing lines in the sand with his hikers.

“Yeah, but maybe you’re missing out. You met me and I’m pretty cool, right?”

Keith turned to look at Lance, face confused. His eyes looked grey in the moonlight.

“That was a yes or no question.”

“I’ll go,” said Keith suddenly.

“Wait,” said Lance, hating to end on that note. “Five more minutes. Just tossing rocks. No more personal questions. Okay?”

“‘Kay,” said Keith. Then he put his hand out towards Lance.

‘Is this happening?’ thought Lance as he reached out to take hold of Keith’s hand. Keith yanked his hand back.

“Sorry,” gasped Lance. “Oh, was that supposed to be hand shake?”

“I was trying to hand you this rock,” said Keith, opening his palm. “Then you made it weird.”

“Ohhhhh,” said Lance. “Yeah, I guess you do have that… touching aversion, hey?”

“No,” said Keith, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Look, I won’t push, but my mom always says, ‘Boys should hug and hold hands with other boys.’”

“Okay,” said Keith slowly. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Should girls not hold hands and hug?”

“Unclear,” said Lance because he’d never really questioned why his mom often said this to him and the logic behind it.

Keith stayed a little longer before taking off, backpack in tow. He must’ve visited the pantry before waking him up. Lance went back to bed (couch) feeling strangely exhilarated. Keith was… his friend. How cool was that?


	3. Stop, drop, and roll?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'd think they'd be past traps at this point. They're not.

“Lance?” 

This was how many nights would start, with Keith gently waking Lance up. Then it was time for Lance to shake off sleep and think of something fun for them to do. Luckily they had a lot of farm land for them to wander. Lance’s siblings never played with him like this anymore so it was fun having Keith for company.

When a cold front hit, Lance found ways to spend time inside without waking anyone up. Once he made Keith hot chocolate (pulling the kettle off the stove right before it boiled) and they sat at the kitchen table and played tic tac toe for hours. They tied seventy-one times. Keith won twice.

Another time they snuck down into the wine cellar (which Lance was completely convinced was actually haunted) and they laid out of Lance’s Husky fleece blanket and made shadow puppets on the ceiling.

A lot of the time, Keith didn’t say much and that was okay. Lance always had plenty built up to say and could fill any silence. Sometimes, though, Keith would talk. Not usually about what was going on with him right now, but stories about him and his dad, what they used to do together.

Lance would hold on to every word like it was precious. Sometimes going so far as to hold his breath, scared that if he made one of his famous dramatic reaction noises, he’d break the spell that had Keith talking.

He learned lots of facts about Keith too. Like how his birthday was eight days before halloween and his favourite colour was red, BUT black was better for sneaking around.

Lance liked to find stuff to give Keith, but he could easily go overboard and have Keith shaking his head, “Don’t give me your stuff, Lance. Don’t you need that?”

So as a compromise Lance liked frequenting garage sales and flea markets. His family got so confused over his new buying habits that they jokingly started calling Lance a hoarder (despite there being no evidence of stuff piling up.) 

Once he’d find a useful item for Keith, Lance would negotiate down the price so when Keith would protest that he didn’t need a portable DVD player, Lance would argue. “I bought it for a dollar fifty. Just say thank you.” It was a dead media anyway, but that was great because it meant he could find movies for ten cents a piece and bring Keith stuff to watch.

Also, miracle of miracle, Keith watching movies meant he was starting to get some of Lance’s references and that made Lance extra happy. Especially if Keith made Lance laugh, the look that would come over Keith’s face when he’d hear Lance laughing… It was priceless.

The only problem with the Keith visits were they were infrequent and unpredictable. Sometimes he’d see Keith three times a week (and be yawning all week through school having lost so much sleep,) but other times it would be a month… or two. It was all so unpredictable and that part sucked, but mostly he was… well, amazing.

It was dawning on Lance slowly that the other kids at school didn’t have a ‘Keith.’ They didn’t have a secret life in the nighttime hours where they confided all their deepest secrets with a friend that was theirs and theirs alone.

Okay, confession time, there were moments when Lance started to question his own sanity. Started to wonder if he’d made Keith up in his head. If he was just an imaginary friend and he’d made up as a kid and he’d totally lost his grip on reality. 

But then… food went missing from the pantry. The stuff Lance bought was obviously going somewhere. 

Okay, but what if the Hermit was a grown man taking the stuff and Keith was still imaginary?

Lance spent half a summer freaking out over this (when there was no Keith visit to speak of) only to be reassured the first day of school when Pidge (formally known as Katie, but he was not to call them that anymore) brought in a security video they’d pinched from Old Man Iverson showing the Hermit caught on camera raiding the summer camp.

No face visible, but Lance knew that black hoodie (it was a “new” black hoodie he’d bought at a flea market for Keith since the boy insisted on growing during puberty like what the hell, right?) and the fluid way he walked, like a ninja out of place in the world. 

He had his hood pulled up so he wasn’t identifiable in the video which was a relief. The weird thing was he kept coming back in for more stuff, but… Keith had to walk home several hours to the Bad Lands (Lance assumed, he’d never gotten a clear answer from Keith on that one.)

So Lance was okay and he wasn’t crazy. Now the only issue was… why hadn’t he seen Keith in over a month? He hadn’t even shown up for a visit on Lance’s sweet sixteenth, which was odd because Keith had made a point to visit on the past two birthdays.

So Lance went to bed, not worrying that Keith was a figment of his imagination, but unsettled over his absence. He tried to remember their last visit, whether he’d said anything awkward that might have offended Keith. (Actually this happened a lot with Lance sticking his own foot in his mouth. Keith had a lot of triggers.) But Keith was usually good at telling Lance off if something he said was upsetting. Over the years, the more Lance got Keith talking, the more this feisty, sharp-witted personality had come out. It was a lot of fun when Lance was in on it, but kinda frightening when he was the target.

Lance couldn’t think of anything he might’ve done or said to offend Keith yet where was he? He fell asleep that same night, troubled by Keith’s prolonged absence.

********

Keith used the key to the backdoor Lance had given him. “No more windows, Keith. You’re an invited guest with backdoor privileges.” Lance had then immediately turned red right after saying that. Keith didn’t get what Lance was embarrassed about, but that happened sometimes. Things would go over Keith’s head.

Keith crept into the kitchen, for some reason feeling like this was more violating than taking the window. He walked on past the pantry even though his stomach reminded him he needed those supplies. He’d go in there later. He wanted to see Lance first.

And there he was in the living room. Fast asleep on the couch as always, tucked underneath his Husky fleece. Boy had a whole bedroom for himself, but he never slept there because then Keith couldn't come upstairs to wake him up so he slept on a couch just for his sake.

Keith dropped himself down onto his knees to bring himself face to face with Lance. Now would normally be when he’d whisper his name to wake him up, but Keith couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead he knelt there, studying Lance’s sleeping face, noticing details like the curl of his lashes and the freckles that dusted his nose. Keith never really got to look at him when he was awake. Didn’t want to get caught just staring at him, memorizing his face like he so longed to do.

He felt this strange mix of fear and calm. Keith didn’t see people unless from afar. Not usually anyway. But he knew somehow that Lance’s face was some kind of special.

Keith twisted around to sit with his back against the bottom of the couch. He dropped his bag down beside him and let out a deep breath. He was worn out and sore and this house was so warm. He would just rest his eyes for a bit.

********

Lance was having stress dreams. He dreamt he’d gone to the zoo on a class field trip and when he got to the lion cages (worth noting there’s no zoos anywhere near Lance’s school. The best they have is a petting zoo) he saw Keith was inside the cage with the beast. Lance started yelling for someone to help, but all his classmates kept saying no one was in there. So Lance called out to Keith and told him he had to find a way out, but Keith just smiled and said, “It’s okay. I’m making friends with him,” then turned to the lion and said very slowly and clearly, “It’s me. Keith. Your buddy.”

Lance could clearly see the lion was about to pounce on Keith and tear him to shreds so he tried to slide through the bars, but of course he couldn’t fit and then he got stuck and all he could do was yell at Keith to move as the lion sprang towards him and -

He woke himself up with a start. His heart was pounding and he was sweating. He had to breathe slowly to calm himself down. For half a second he wondered if something other than the bad dream had woken him up.

“Keith?” he whispered into the dark, but as his eyes adjusted he saw no one… heard no sounds from the kitchen. Worry settled back in, but he pushed it back, knowing there was no point to wallowing right now. He should just try to get some more sleep.

Lance turned over, pushing the covers down to his hips to help cool the nervous sweat from the nightmare then he let his arm drop over the side of the couch to catch the cooler air. On its way down it touched something soft and Lance yanked back his arm, terrified of what he’d just touched.

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down to see Keith leaning his back against the bottom of the couch, knees pulled up to his chest and chin tucked, fast asleep.

Lance chest swelled at the sight of him. He couldn’t help himself as he dropped forward, wrapping his arms across Keith’s chest and tucking himself against him.

All these years as friends and Keith still wasn’t big on touching, but he would accept a hug from Lance on special occasions. The first few times Keith just stood there, arms still pressed to his own sides, not returning the hug in any way. Over time he changed to awkwardly patting Lance’s back. Then finally putting his own arms around Lance, but feather light, no pressure at all. 

This was not the way to hug Keith. Surprising him awake with unexpected affection and yet... Lance couldn’t express his relief and joy at seeing him without his entire body wanting to wrap itself about him.

Keith startled in his arms and Lance would’ve moved off, should’ve moved off, but he just couldn’t let him go. Not when he just got him back.

“I missed you so much,” muttered Lance, tucking his head against Keith’s neck. The tension in Keith’s body eased off at the sound of his voice.

What a way to wake up, held by someone. Keith had memories of himself as a child waking up with his dad carrying him, but those were fading as the years passed. He didn’t know if he truly remembered the feeling or remembered remembering it.

Thoughts didn’t feel like this. Lance was so warm and when he spoke, Keith felt his lips against the nape of his neck. It felt so good it almost hurt. It was the rush of something that made him so happy, but promised to hurt in its absence.

Keith could’ve stopped it then and there, broken free of Lance’s touch, stepped away like he had so often when the ache in his chest threatened to lift him up so high he’d shatter when he fell. But this moment was different. So often he thought Lance was doing him a favour by offering himself affection, but that little shake in his voice made Keith realize that Lance was getting something from this. That Keith had the power to give something to him and not just take.

Keith bent his arms at the elbows and criss-crossed them over Lance’s arms, tucking his fingers under Lance’s wrists. He squeezed Lance back, pushing firmly against his arms so Lance wouldn’t even think of removing them. 

His mind swirled with all the things he wanted to say to Lance. Every conversation he’d imagined having with him, every moment that had passed without him. Sometimes it felt like Keith wasn’t even real until he had Lance to talk to. Mostly he wanted to say how much he missed him. Wanted to explain what kept him away so long, but in the swirl of choices for words he became overwhelmed and just said nothing, feeling tears slip from his eyes. In kind, he could feel wetness against his neck.

Keith didn’t understand what this moment was. It was too big for him to take in, but it was precious. Maybe the best moment in his life and he chose to just sit in it, stretch it out a little longer, commit it to memory just like Lance’s face.

Lance heard Keith sniff, confirmation that he was crying too. It blew Lance away. Keith came and went as he pleased. To think he actually felt Lance’s absence deeply as Lance felt his… or that he could be moved by Lance’s confession. 

Lance wanted to say more things. So many more things, but his head was spinning out trying to pick something to say. It was Keith that spoke. His voice croaky from crying and not just from its usual lack of use. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.”

“That’s okay,” said Lance, just touched he acknowledged it.

“I have a gift for you,” said Keith, shifting to the side so Lance was forced to let go of him. It felt like a spell was just broken. 

“Oh, Keith’s famous homemade gifts,” said Lance, watching Keith unzip his bag.

“Just because you don’t have the talent to make something yourself, does not mean you can mock my gifts.”

“What do you mean I lack talent?” asked Lance, sitting up so he could act as offended as possible. “I have the gift of thrift. Something that has served you very well.”

Keith paused with his hand inside his backpack and gave Lance the most ‘done’ look ever. “Do you want your present or not?”

“Yes, present please,” said Lance, swinging his legs to the floor and lightly clapping his hands. He put out his hands and Keith deposited something wrapped in a tea towel. Lance peeled the towel back. “Whoa Keith…”

Lance had been impressed by Keith’s wood work before - boy basically treated a knife like an extension of himself - but this time he’d outdone himself. It was a flute, but more than that, instead of a smooth surface it was covered with intricate carvings, too detailed for Lance to make out in the dark.

“I hope you like it.”

“I love it,” said Lance, feeling the designs with his fingertips. “I used to be the bad boy of fourth grade music class with my mad recorder skills.”

“Yes, you bragged to me about that several times. That’s what gave me the idea. Especially since you said you don’t have the recorder anymore.”

“Yeah, it went missing from my house… like many of my other favourite items over the years.” Lance wiggled his eyebrows in Keith’s direction.

“Most likely your parents hated hearing you practice and threw it away.”

“That theory is nonsense because I am an amazing musician,” said Lance, fully intending to prove this. He put his fingers in position for the starting note of Ode to Joy. He inhaled deep, but when he went to blow, Keith pushed the recorder away from his mouth.

“You that afraid of being proven wrong?” asked Lance. 

“You can’t play that now unless you want to wake up your parents.”

“Maybe I was going to play softly. Like a lullaby,” countered Lance.

“I saw the deep inhale you took, you were about to blow like a tornado warning siren.”

“Welp! I feel called out,” said Lance. He’d missed this. Their quick witted, Gilmore Girl-esque back and forth. Between Keith’s return and the gift, Lance felt giddy. “But how can I seduce you with my sweet siren song if you won’t let me blow?” Nope. Too far. Made it awkward.

But Keith, bless his heart, looked lost as usual.

Lance cleared his throat and went back to admiring the flute. His eyes having adjusted a bit to the low light, he began recognizing some of the carvings. When he noticed a lion, reared back on its hindlegs, it gave Lance a strange sense of dejavu, but there was other stuff to look at like swords, stars, a mermaid... 

“This must’ve taken you…” Lance trailed off, feeling ‘hours’ was not the time unit he should be using to calculate. Working nonstop over weeks felt more accurate.

Keith shrugged, brushing it off. “I had a lot of free time.”

Lance smiled and then frowned because the part of him that worries constantly wanted to speak up again. “Why did you have a lot of free time? And why haven’t you come around in the past six weeks? What’s been going on with you?”

“Nothing,” said Keith with another shrug, this time his shoulders didn’t drop all the way back down. 

“Keith…,” pressed Lance.

Keith folded easily enough. “I was sick. I couldn’t travel so I just had to stay put.”

“Wait, for six weeks? You were sick for six weeks?”

“Something like that.” Keith was looking around the room, focusing on anything but Lance. But this gave Lance an opportunity to inspect him better, notice the hollow look to his cheeks and the paleness to him that made him look almost translucent in the dark.

“That sounds serious… being sick that long.”

“I’m fine,” said Keith as if that would cancel out the six weeks where he wasn’t fine.

“Who took care of you?” asked Lance, this being completely rhetorical because he knew the answer to that. No one.

“I took care of myself,” said Keith, his voice with just a bit of edge to it.

“You should’ve…” Lance trailed off, unsure what he could mean.

“Should’ve what?” snapped Keith.

Lance was still faltering because he wanted to say ‘called me,’ but Keith can’t call Lance. He lives without a phone in an undisclosed location in the Bad Lands and suddenly Lance’s head was spinning with every possibility of what could’ve gone wrong (or rather, worse) with Keith sick and alone, too far from civilization. No one close enough to come help. No one to check on him…

Lance was somehow up and pacing the room without him remembering when he even stood up.

“You could’ve Into the Wild’d!” exclaimed Lance.

“I could’ve what?”

“Into the Wild!” said Lance, spinning on Keith. “Did I not give you that DVD yet?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Keith, still sitting on the carpet.

“2007 release. Emile Hirsch plays a post-grad who hitchhikes north to go live in the wilderness of Alaska a.k.a. He goes ‘Into the wild’.” Lance added the finger quotes. “And you know what happened to him?”

“He lived in the wilderness of Alaska?”

“No, I mean, yes at first, but then he died, Keith! He ate some poisonous berries that killed him slowly and he was too sick to go back to civilization to seek treatment and no one knew he was there so no one came to save him and he died. Then less than a week later hikers found his corpse. True story!”

“Wait.... is this a movie or a true story?”

“It’s both, Keith!” snapped Lance. “... and also I think it’s a book…”

“Okay, so because of this book you read -,” began Keith.

“Oh, I didn’t read a book!” said Lance. “I watched a movie. A movie that could’ve been you.”

“Is that what you’re getting at? I’m fine,” said Keith firmly.

“But you might not have been!” Lance took a deep breath because he wanted to sound serious right now and not frantic. “I didn’t know where you were for six weeks. I can’t get in touch with you because I don’t know where you live. I can’t check on you if you’re missing. One day I might have my last visit with you and you’ll never come back and I won’t know if it’s because you died or got sick of me or were only ever a figment of my imagination.”

Keith let out a big huff of a sigh then stood up, swinging his now empty bag onto his shoulder. Without a word he started towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” asked Lance, catching up to him at the door and putting a hand firmly on it to prevent Keith from opening it.

“I don’t know what you want,” said Keith, voice quivering on the edge of losing control. “And apparently I’m imaginary now…”

“That last part I didn’t mean to say out loud,” muttered Lance.

“Do you really think I never get that feeling like I’m just…?” Keith trailed off with a shake of his head.

“What?” pressed Lance.

Keith spoke slowly talking directly to the door. “That if I’m not contributing to the world then am I really anything?”

“You’re something, Keith,” said Lance, frightened by this confession. “You’re my best friend.” This was the first time Lance had actually named it so, but yes, it was true. He watched Keith shrink back a bit from the door. “I just don’t want to lose you and not even know it.”

“I don’t see how I can prevent that,” said Keith, voice low. “Your hypothetical involves my death.”

“I want you to show me where you live,” said Lance, rushing through the words. He’d never asked, not once in over three years of friendship.

Keith was still for a long moment as if drinking in this request and turning it over in his head. When he finally looked at him, Lance was certain he was about to agree. “No.” However, he didn’t. Keith opened the front door with enough force to move Lance along with it then walked out.

“You can’t just ‘No!’” said Lance, following him outside in his bare feet.

“I don’t ask for much, Lance,” said Keith, stalking forward down the gravel driveway.

“You don’t ask for much?” repeated Lance, sarcasm in full bloom.

Keith ignored this and kept talking. “I just want you to respect my privacy.”

“Keith, you are so closed off,” said Lance, following on his heels, stones prickling his bare feet. “I do nothing but back off and give you space. Not to mention keep your secrets. I ask one thing of you one time and not only do you say no, but accuse me of not respecting your privacy?”

Keith spun on Lance, causing Lance to lurch to a halt before walking directly into his chest. “You set traps for me! Twice!”

“I was twelve!” argued Lance. “And it worked out for you because you got a friend out of the deal!”

“Yeah, lucky me,” said Keith, rolling his eyes and spinning around to continue walking.

“Everything in our friendship, I initiate,” said Lance, standing in the same place and projecting so Keith could still hear him. “Can you please just… just take a chance on me? Don’t you trust me?”

Keith tried to block out Lance’s voice as he walked away. He didn’t want to be in this awful fight, but he also had no clue how to stop it beyond getting physically away from Lance. 

It wasn’t until he was a good mile away from where he’d left his only friend in the world that Keith realized he forgot to visit the pantry and take the supplies. He was tired and dizzy and weak from hunger and he’d need to figure out another house to hit before he could go home.

************

Lance was waiting for the school bus when he noticed the weird lump in his hoodie pocket. He slid his hand in one end and felt something long and stiff. Confused, he pulled it out to discover it was the flute Keith had made him. He must’ve stuffed it inside without thinking when they were in the middle of their argument. 

In the daylight he could see the details clear, how the designs wove together like they were always ingrained inside the wood and Keith just had to dig them out. Thinking of Keith spending weeks carefully carving this for him made Lance’s heart ache. 

He’d never gotten to test the sound last night. He lifted it to his lips and paused, a sudden thought stilling him. Keith must’ve tested it himself while carving, ensuring it sounded right. That meant his lips had pressed in this same spot. The thought made Lance feel kinda hyper in a way he wasn’t convinced was okay. He pushed the thought out of his head and blew on the wind instrument. 

The tone was perfect. 

He ran through the finger placement for Ode to Joy from memory just to be certain. When he finished it was confirmed, Keith had made the flute sound as beautiful as it looked. 

************

“I want a tracking device,” said Lance, dropping down into the bus seat beside Pidge.

“Hello,” said Pidge sarcastically.

“Hey, you’re the one who doesn’t like small talk. So can you build me one?”

“Back it up a bit. Why do you need a tracking device?”

“I want to track the Hermit. I want to find out where he lives.”

Pidge laughed. “I knew that security video would respark your obsession with the Hermit.”

“I am not obsessed with him!” snapped Lance so loud everyone on the bus turned to look at him. At that moment, Lance remembered that Pidge was referring to the Hermit as the common lore of a grown man Lance has never met and not Keith… He cleared his throat and said in a calm, normal voice, “Can you do it?”

“Yeah sure,” said Pidge. “Get off at my house and I’ll whip one up for ya.”

***********

Keith had to come back the next night to grab the supplies from the McClain’s pantry that he’d left the night before. Keith tucked everything in his bag then went to go stand in the doorway to the living room and watch Lance sleep.

He was all curled up in an angry ball tonight, the hem of the blanket clenched in tight fists.

Keith thought about waking him up, wondering what he’d say once he had. Then he imagined what Lance would say back and Keith got annoyed at what he’d imagined Lance saying then thought of something mean to say back and before he knew it ten minutes had passed and he’d had an entire argument with Lance in his head and felt exhausted.

He decided to just forget it for tonight. He wasn’t calm yet so what was the point? He shrugged his bag onto his shoulders and left through the window for old time’s sake.

*********

Lance glared at the empty pantry shelf the next morning. So Keith had really come back the very next night and took food without waking Lance up? At least that made him feel less guilty about putting Pidge’s homemade tracking device on the peanut butter.

*********

Pidge had put an app on Lance’s phone that gave him a map directing him to where the tracking device had ended up. It was indeed the Bad Lands which caused a transportation issue. It was too sandy for a bicycle and too rough a terrain for a car. Not that Lance had his license yet…

However, Keith walked across it all the time so Lance could do the same. He packed a bag with water and food and left right after school. 

Guess what Lance didn’t do before leaving? Charge his phone.

Good thing navigation apps don’t drain the battery like crazy…. Oh wait.

Lance’s phone was dead and he’d been walking for three hours. The last hour was spent hoping he was still heading in the right direction.

This was fruitless, right? Time to give up.

He spun around to start the long trek back home only to immediately realize there were no landmarks to prove that was the direction he’d come from and ho boy, there started the panic attack.

Lance spun around several times as if this would reorient him rather than what it really did, which was confuse him further. 

“The sun!” cried Lance, looking to the horizon. The sun was low in the sky which meant sunset and the sun sets in the West so that direction was West. Now all he needed to do was remember what direction he’d come from.

Lance’s brain short circuited. 

Why couldn’t he picture in his head where his farm was in relation to the Bad Lands?!

“Foot prints!” gasped Lance when he noticed he’d left footprints in the sand. That was good. Everything was fine. He just needed to follow his own footprints home.

So he did. For about five minutes and then the wind picked up and started blowing the sand, erasing the footprints. 

“Aw c’mon, wind!” yelled Lance. “Why you gotta do me like that?!”

Lance was gonna die out here, wasn’t he?

Okay, last ditch effort.

“Keith?” Lance called out, feeling stupid. “You around here, buddy?” His voice lost the embarrassment and got louder. “KEITH?!” Lance spun around as he yelled, “IF YOU’RE ANYWHERE NEAR ME, KEITH… please help…”

Hopelessness was starting to overtake Lance. He was so stupid coming up with this plan. At least Pidge knew he’d gone out looking for the Hermit. At least the police would know to search the Bad Lands to recover his body, Into the Wild style.

Movement in the distance.

Were Lance’s eyes playing tricks on him?

He squinted and shielded his eyes from the slanted light of the setting sun. Yes, there was something moving there.

Relief washed over Lance. He threw his arms in the air and waved them like he really, really cared. “KEITH!” he yelled, picking up his feet and running towards his salvation. “KEITH!”

Lance actually prided himself on his distance vision. He could shoot cans with a BB gun from across the yard and hit the target every time. His siblings called him Sharpshooter… Well, he called himself that and hoped it would catch on. Anyway, that’s why he soon realized what he was running towards was not Keith, but something very hairy with teeth.

“Oh fuck,” swore Lance, sliding to a halt and spinning around to sprint in the exact opposite direction. 

It was a wolf. A fucking wolf was chasing Lance because apparently God was not satisfied with killing him slowly of exposure and dehydration. He wanted Lance to die quickly and viciously of multiple bite wounds and maybe have his face eaten for good measure.

Lance was panicking and that wasn’t good because he could hear the wolf catching up to him and he knew running was probably making it want to eat him more. What had his parents always told him about what to do if he ran into a wild dog on the farm?

Stop, drop, and roll?

No, that was fire!

With dog attacks you make yourself small and protect your head!

Lance dropped to his knees, tucking himself into a ball, and wrapping his arms over his fragile, fragile head.

The next few moments were a blur. He felt weight hit his back then bounce off. Growls so loud it made his eardrums hurt. It was moving around him too fast for him to figure out where exactly the wolf was. Pain, sharp on his arm. Something wet. A buzz then roars made Lance’s head lose all logic again and think he heard a lion as well as a wolf. The noise turned to a rough purr as a voice called out, “Kosmo!”

Lance sensed the wolf back off, but didn’t dare move.

“Kosmo, go!” A whimper. Panting. “Git!”

That was Keith’s voice… But surely Lance was hallucinating as he was dying.

“Lance,” said his hallucination. “Lance!”

Okay, fine. He would look at the hallucination as well as hear it. Lance removed his arms enough to look up and there was Keith, sitting on an ATV with a pair of driving goggles pushed up on his head.

This couldn’t be a hallucination because Lance’s brain was creative, but it was not ‘Keith looks cool on an ATV creative.’

“What are you doing here, Lance?” asked Keith, annoyed.

“Being eaten to death. How ‘bout you?”

“You weren’t being eaten,” said Keith with an eyeroll as he swung his leg over to dismount the ATV. “Your arm doesn’t look bad at all.”

“My arm?” questioned Lance. With confusion he looked to see a bite in his left arm with blood dripping from it. Okay, so that was the wetness. “Shit! I change my answer. I am bleeding to death.”

“You’re not,” said Keith, kneeling down to inspect the arm. 

Lance felt dizzy looking at the blood seeping from the bite mark.

“Don’t look at it,” said Keith. He cupped Lance’s chin and turned his head roughly away.

“Why not?” demanded Lance trying to look only to have Keith turn his face forcefully to the side again.

“Because you’re going to work yourself into a panic if you stare at it and I can tell you right now. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? I was bitten by a wolf, Keith! A wolf!”

“Okay, good, focus on ranting about that,” said Keith.

“Why are you giving me permission to rant?” asked Lance, trying to look at his arm again, but Keith pushed his cheek to the side once more.

“Because you won’t like what I’m about to do and it’s better if you focus on running your mouth.”

“What are you about to -- ow!” Lance felt Keith put pressure on his wound with his hands, but not like ‘oh let me stop the bleeding’ more like he was squeezing. Lance gave up and looked to see Keith was indeed squeezing outside his wound and causing it to ooze more blood. “What are you doing?” gasped Lance, trying to yank his arm back.

“Whoa don’t do that,” said Keith, holding tight to Lance’s arm and overpowering him in the strength department.

“You’re making me bleed more!” cried Lance. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’m flushing out the wound of bacteria with the blood flow. It’s not very deep and it’ll probably close on its own before I can disinfect it properly. I don’t want you to get an infection.”

“Well… explain that first!”

“Would you have let me squeeze your arm if I’d told you what I wanted to do?” asked Keith.

“No,” said Lance, instinctively pulling his whole arm away from Keith. He let him go and instead went into Lance’s shoulder bag, finding the water bottle. “Gimme,” he said.

Lance reluctantly gave him back his arm and winced as the water was poured over the wound.

“That’ll help too, but it needs to be bandaged,” said Keith, standing up. “C’mon.” He nodded to the ATV.

“You’re not going to bandage it now?” asked Lance, staying put on the ground.

“I don’t have any bandages, do you?”

“No, but you could do that action hero thing where you tear a strip off the bottom of your shirt then use it to bandage my arm?” He looked at Keith’s waist as he said this, immediately felt awkward then looked back to his face.

“One,” said Keith, holding up a finger, “You’re not bleeding so much that pressure needs to be applied. Two, my shirt isn’t clean so it would make a terrible bandage. Three, shirts aren’t that easy to rip up especially while wearing them. Four, I like my shirt. You really need this action hero bandading, ruin your own shirt for it.”

Keith’s shirt was black with an artist’s rendering of Mothman on it. Lance had found it for him at a flea market (3 for $5!) and it had become one of Keith’s favourites that he wore often. Lance didn’t actually want it to be sacrificed either.

Keith climbed onto the ATV and put his goggles down. “Let’s go.”

“Good,” said Lance. “I need all the hospitals.”

“Have I called you a drama queen lately?” asked Keith and even if the tone didn’t match the joke at least it helped Lance feel like maybe there was hope that they weren’t actually still mad at each other.

“No, but point taken.” Lance climbed on the back of the ATV. “Since when do you have one of these?”

“I’ve always had one of these,” said Keith, revving the engine. “It’s just recently I got it working.”

Lance had deliberately sat back enough so he wasn’t actually touching Keith, but he knew this wasn’t going to work once they started moving. Instead of driving Keith slid off his black hoodie then handed it back to Lance.

“What should I -?” asked Lance, confused.

“Wrap it around your waist,” instructed Keith.

“O...kay…” Lance wrapped it around the back and went to tie the sleeves in front, but Keith reached back and took the sleeves himself. He then tied it around his own waist, pulling on it so tight, Lance was forced to scoot himself forward so he was right pressed against Keith’s back. Keith double knotted it. “What’s this?”

“Makeshift seat belt because I don’t trust you not to fall off the back.”

“You could just drive slower.”

“Naw,” said Keith. He took Lance's uninjured arm and with such a gentle touch guided it to his waist. He’d been so cautious it was hard for Lance to hold his front with any firmness. “Why, dad used to use this trick when I’d ride with him.”

Suddenly feeling awkward didn’t matter so much as Lance had this new information to turn over in his head. Now he could picture little Keith, tied behind his dad as they drove around the desert.

“You coming, Kosmo?” asked Keith and for a split second Lance thought he was talking to him, but then he heard a bark behind him. Lance nearly jumped out of his seat (lucky he was tied in place) because he hadn’t known the wolf that had attacked him was still around.

“What the hell, Keith? Why is that wolf following you?”

Keith turned his head back enough for Lance to see the smirk on his face. “Told you I have a pet.”

“That’s not a pet, Keith, that’s a wild animal who tried to eat me!”

“He was protecting my property,” said Keith, “keeping intruders out.”

Then before Lance could come up with what was sure to be a seething come back, Keith lurched forward with the ATV and they were off at the speed that was reckless at best and suicidal at worst.

“Hey, you wanna slow down!” yelled Lance.

“Shut up and trust me,” yelled Keith.


	4. Bop it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is introduced to the Hermit life.

After about twenty minutes it was evident that Keith was not bringing him to all the hospitals nor civilization at all. (Of course, of course.) And that is how, despite all the odds being against him, Lance finally arrived at “The Hermit’s Hideout.”

It was dark when they pulled up so Lance couldn’t get the full effect, but what it seemed to be was a wooden shack with a tiny porch and creepy looking cement shed beside it. Lance’s legs felt like jelly when he climbed off the ATV. He didn’t know if it was the blood loss or the walking, but he felt tired right to his bones. Kosmo was still with them and sniffing around Lance. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed.

“Don’t act scared, he’ll attack,” instructed Keith.

“How is telling me he’ll attack me if I’m scared supposed to make me less scared?” demanded Lance.

Keith didn’t answer. Lance was trying to ignore how flat his tone was whenever he spoke, was trying not to acknowledge that although Keith had rescued him, it was clear from his behaviour that he was still pretty mad at him.

Keith unlocked a padlock on the shed door then opened it up. Lance followed him inside, but stood in the doorway, waiting for his eyes to adjust before he moved forward. He could hear Keith shuffling around, then there was a spark of light as Keith lit a gas lamp.

“My generator’s running on fumes,” said Keith as Lance moved into the room, looking around at what there was to see. Not much in terms of furniture. A coffee table, a couch, but also shelves and a workbench loaded with stuff. It was cluttered, but not messy. “I can’t turn the light’s on.”

“I like it,” said Lance because that was the polite thing to say when you see someone’s place for the first time.

“You like that the lights are off?” asked Keith.

“No, I meant where you live.”

Keith stared at him for a beat like he didn’t trust this then went to busy himself at the other end of the… shack.

“Here,” said Keith, putting an impressively large First Aid kit down on the table. Lance came and knelt down beside it.

Keith cleaned Lance’s wound again, put antibacterial cream on it, then bandaged it up properly. Lance winced through the entire thing, but resisted vocalizing his complaints. The silence felt too thick to break. He desperately needed a joke or something to lighten the mood.

When Keith was packing the kit back up, Lance nodded to the suture kit and said, “Sure I don’t need stitches?”

“Sure,” said Keith, tone still flat. 

“Not even one? For good luck?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe you could stitch my mouth shut since my voice annoys you so much…”

Keith slammed the kit closed. (Oops too far…) Then he finally looked Lance in the eyes.

“I’m not annoyed that you’re speaking, Lance. I’m annoyed that you’re here.”

Okay, welp, there definitely wasn’t a defense to that one. “You drove me here so…” Oh wait, there was and it was terrible.

“I can’t believe you!” snapped Keith. “I explicitly said I didn’t want you to know where I lived and then you, what? Decided to come find me yourself?”

“Well, the good news is, I have no clue where I was when you found me nor do I know where you drove me so technically I still don’t know where you live.”

“Stop,” said Keith, “Just stop with your sarcastic little ‘look on the bright side’s.’ You’re not an invited guest. I don’t want you here.”

Keith’s words hung in the air while Lance choked back the reality that he’d royally and completely fucked up this time.

“Sorry,” said Lance, quietly. “If you can drop me off or at least point me in the direction of my farm I’ll get out of your hair and never come here again.” Lance drew up his knees to his chest. He felt like the worst person in the entire world.

“I’m not taking you back tonight,” said Keith, a little less tension in his tone.

“What? Why not?”

“You need to rest and if you come home late with your arms bandaged up your parents will freak out.” Keith had a point. “Call them and tell them you’re staying at Hunk’s. I’ll drive you back in the morning.”

“My phone’s dead,” said Lance, sheepishly.

Keith bobbed his head with understanding. “I can spare enough juice to get it charged enough for a call.” He stood up. “I was heading out to get more diesel for the generator when I found you. Well… Kosmo found you.”

“How did your blood thirsty wolf find me?” asked Lance.

“Smelt you I’m guessing. He was running along side me then suddenly he just veered off.”

“Smelt me?” repeated Lance.

“Yeah, wolves have a good sense of smell,” said Keith like this was obvious.

“But how would he know my smell?” But then Lance noticed it. The fleece blanket folded up on the end of the couch. He bet if he unfolded it there would be three wolves howling at the moon. It felt surreal seeing it here. Like everything with their relationship had stemmed from this one blanket and Lance was only just realizing the blanket’s powers. Like they were both pawn’s in the blanket’s game.

Keith was talking and Lance had to shake himself out of it to listen. “...got a lot of stuff from you,” explained Keith. “He probably knows your smell pretty well. It’s weird he’d attack though unless he thought you were attacking him first and went into self-defense mode.”

“Heh right…” said Lance, nervously.

Keith went outside to start the generator then came back in to get Lance’s phone charging. There was some comfort to be had in seeing that charging symbol pop up on the long dead screen.

While that charged, Keith offered Lance food. He didn’t want to accept because he knew Keith had so little, but mama had told him it was impolite for a guest to not accept food when offered so he said yes. Keith lit a gas stove and took out a small pot then opened up a can of ravioli.

“What house is treating you with brand name Chef Boyardee?” asked Lance. His mom still bought the generic store brand ravioli. 

“Summer camp stocks it by the case,” said Keith, crouching down to stir the pot.

The security video Pidge had shown Lance of Keith stealing from the summer camp flashed inside his head. Now he knew why Keith was taking multiple loads this time, because he had the ATV up and running and could take a lot at once rather than walking. But there were other concerns nagging at him that he couldn’t put his finger on. Something just wasn’t adding up.

Lance looked at Keith, noticing the way his shirt rode up while he crouched, showing a sliver of skin just above his waist. Normally, whenever Lance clued in that he was looking at Keith in a weird way, he’d look away, but this time something caught his eye. 

There was a scar there just above his hip, raised, a little puckered. It tugged at his memory. He remembered this one time he’d really pissed his mom off and told her she was selfish and had never done anything for him (puberty is a cruel monster.) She had left the room then ten minutes later came back with a photograph of her c-section scar (gross) while it was still healing (so gross) and told him to look at that and say exactly what he’d said again.

Of course he was speechless and his mom had said, “That’s what I thought!” Keith’s scar looked like this one… his mom had told him she’d taken that photo just over a month since she’d given birth… and it had gotten infected...

“You weren’t sick,” said Lance, the realization flying out of his mouth as quickly as he thought of it.

“What?” asked Keith, looking back over his shoulder.

“You weren’t sick, you were hurt. You were cut badly on your side there and you couldn’t go anywhere because it got infected.”

Keith looked down at the pot, like it needed him to pay close attention. His shoulders were drawn up and tense.

“Why did you say you were sick if you were hurt?” Lance’s heart was suddenly pounding, his anxiety spiking over just asking this question.

“Sick. Hurt. Same thing,” said Keith, darkly.

“It’s not though,” said Lance, trying to keep his words calm.

“You got pretty mad about the sick thing,” said Keith, still speaking into the pot of ravioli. “You wanna get more mad over me being hurt? Be my guest.”

Lance sighed, struggling to know what to say next. He wasn’t trying to convey that he was mad over something that wasn’t Keith’s fault, but Keith kept interpreting it that way.

“I’m sorry I lost it the other night,” said Lance. “What you call mad is me feeling frustrated and I’m only feeling frustrated because I can’t help you when bad things happen to you. I don’t even get to know when they do happen and the scariest thing I can imagine is losing you.”

Lance let that sit for a moment. Keith still, not moving from his spot.

“I care about you so much,” said Lance, feeling a lump rising in his throat. “And I don’t want that caring to come off as being upset with you. You don’t have to accept my apology or stop being mad and what I’m going to ask next you don’t owe me, but I wanna know what happened. How you got that scar.”

Keith moved from his crouch to a sitting, crossing his knees in front of him still facing the wall, not Lance. “And if I don’t tell you?”

“Then I’ll have to suck it up,” said Lance, realizing with frustration that he really would have to do just that without pouting over it. “You’ve always had this line I’m not allowed to cross when it comes to knowing things. I don’t always know where you’ve drawn it because my idea of where the line should be and your idea of where it should be are very different. 

“We have an odd give and take. There’s a lot about myself I’m willing to share with you. I… I honestly don’t know if there’s something you could ask of me that I wouldn’t give you.” Lance shook his head at this realization because in a way it was mind blowing. “But you’re different from me. And I wanna respect the line without crossing it like I did today by coming to find you. But… in full honesty I am going to occasionally try to move the line… in my favour.”

Keith’s head sunk down to his chest and for a moment Lance thought he’d said the wrong things afterall, but then Keith spoke. “I did the math and realized I was short on food and if I was going to get by I’d need to steal extra from my usual houses. I didn’t want to do that.

“After years of tinkering I’d just got the ATV running and knew I could do a big hit and my first thought was the summer camp.”

Keith turned and looked at Lance now as he continued. “I don’t usually go there until the season’s ended and I only take what’s leftover, but… I dunno. They were between sessions so I knew no campers were currently there, just that security guard Iverson and since they always have extra supplies at the end of the summer, what was the difference if I took it now or later?

“So I went and I loaded up my ATV and I thought I was good and then… Iverson must’ve had a motion sensor set up because he caught me and when I tried to escape...”

“Did you he stab you?” asked Lance, terror forcing him to speak.

Keith’s eyes flashed then dulled. “No… not exactly. The knife was mine. I pulled it on him, but when I saw how scared he looked I realized how badly I didn’t want to be this person. This person who takes stuff at knifepoint so I went to sheath it, but he dove for it at the same time and… It was an accident… It got pushed into my side and he freaked and I took it as my chance to run…”

“Keith…,” breathed Lance.

“But you were right. I didn’t know what I was doing because I was so panicked and I stitched it up myself…,” Keith was shaking his head the whole time he spoke, “... and it got infected and I got so sick and…” Keith cut himself off, swallowing back his tears.

“I was scared,” said Keith, “and you were right. There was no one to help me or even check on me…”

Keith felt pressure on his hand and looked to see Lance and crawled himself beside him and placed his hand on his. He curled his fingers around his hand and Keith watched in fascination how they fit together. He looked up, traveling his gaze over Lance's bandaged arm up to his face and his soft tear filled eyes.

How did Lance crying for him make it feel worse and better at the same time?

“Keith…,” said Lance.

“Yeah?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m pretty sure you’re burning that Chef Boyardee.”

“Fuck,” swore Keith letting go of Lance’s hand and spinning on the pot.

They ate burnt ravioli in silence and even though Keith didn’t understand how, there was peace between them.

Lance called and made his excuses to his parents. Keith heard the generator die out while he was talking. “I guess that’s it for a charge,” said Lance when he got off the phone. “Thanks for using that bit of juice on me.”

Keith shrugged.

Lance sighed and stretched out his long legs under the table. He heard Lance’s foot knock against something then a familiar beat box started playing.

“Bop it!.... Twist it!...” 

Speaking of still holding a charge.

“Hey,” said Lance, ducking under the table to retrieve the toy. “I knew you stole my Bop It!”

“Only so you wouldn’t use it against me again,” argued Keith.

“And I’m sure you never played it on your own,” said Lance in that tone Keith recognized as sarcasm.

Lance fiddled with the Bop It until he reached the setting where it announced the high score. “Two hundred.” Lance’s eyes went wide.

“You maxed it out?!”

Keith shrugged. He’d maxed that thing out god knows how many times.

“I’m going to beat your high score,” declared Lance, setting it to solo play mode.

“What’s to beat?” asked Keith. “Like you said, I maxed it out.”

“Then I’m going to tie your score!” 

Keith watched Lance play. He screwed up after fifteen points and started again. He tried several times and couldn’t get past twenty moves.

“You broke it,” said Lance.

“I didn’t,” said Keith.

“It’s glitchy!”

“It’s working perfectly.”

“If it was, I would’ve beaten you by now!”

“I told you, you can’t beat me. You can only -”

“Tie you. I know! Blah blah blah blahblahblah.” Lance flapped his fingers like they were a mouth as he said this. “Oh! I know! Ever played duo mode?”

Keith glared at Lance.

“Right. Stupid question.” Lance shook his head. “Wanna try now?”

Keith smirked. “You’re on.”

Keith beat Lance ten to two. He probably would’ve swept the game completely if he hadn’t gotten a little distracted every time their hands brushed when the Bop It! announced, “Pass it!”

He wondered if he’d ever get over it, the touch of someone else. Lance likely touched others all the time and wasn’t suffering from the same shock with each brush of their hands.

“I’m pretty sure my injury is slowing me down,” said Lance with a pout. Funny. Lance had seemed to have forgotten about the bite until he needed it as an excuse.

“I thought it was because it’s glitchy,” said Keith.

“It’s both!” said Lance with a deep pout.

“We should get some sleep,” said Keith. “You can take the couch. You should feel right at home.”

“I’m not taking your bed,” protested Lance.

“You’re injured, remember?” said Keith. “And I can sleep anywhere. I really don’t care.”

“Okay,” said Lance, feeling mildly guilty. He sat on the couch. Keith picked up the two blankets folded there and tossed the fleece one on Lance’s lap and put the other on the ground for himself. 

“With the heat off it’s going to get cold tonight. Wouldn’t be a problem if someone hadn’t interrupted my journey to go get diesel.”

“You could go now,” said Lance, not really wanting Keith to leave, but… heat is heat.

“And leave you alone?” Keith made a dismissive sound. Then he went to go check that the stove was off.

“Oh, yeah? You don’t trust me not to steal from you?” snarked Lance.

Keith shot him a look then turned off the lamp.

Lance unfolded the blanket carefully and ran his hands over the design he remembered from his childhood. Three wolves howling at the moon. He smirked. It seemed like the coolest when he was twelve and it still did now.

“Nice, right?” said Keith. He went back to the stove, checking once again that it was off. Lance thought the double check was odd, but he was distracted by the soft yet slightly itchy feeling of running his hands over the old blanket.

“It’s awesome,” said Lance. “Also, it’s mine.”

It was dark in the room, but Lance saw Keith’s silhouette turn to look at Lance, inquisitively.

“I guess your dad must’ve taken it from my house for you. It’s disappearance was the whole reason I set a trap to catch him. If that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Keith moved in the dark back towards the couch. Lance worried from his silence that this was the wrong truth to share. Keith settled down on the floor, sitting with his back against the bottom of the couch, the same position Lance had woken up to see him in two nights ago. Had it been that recent? It felt like months ago.

“I had no idea it was missed by someone,” said Keith, finally speaking.

“That’s okay,” said Lance, settling in and pulling the blanket up to his chin. “I had no idea it was loved by someone new.”

“It was one of the few things…,” began Keith, but he trailed off. Lance lay still, hoping if he acted docile, Keith would keep talking. “...One of the few things I didn’t lose in the fire.”

All the air went out of Lance’s lungs, his eyes growing wide in the dark. “What… w-what happened?” asked Lance.

Keith shifted and Lance worried he was pushing it. He heard a sigh and then Keith spoke again, “I don’t know how it started… I woke up choking, coughing. I couldn’t see. Then my dad was standing over me. He scooped me up into his arms, this blanket still wrapped around me…” Keith’s voice broke. Lance could hear him breathing in quick short breaths. 

Afraid as Lance was to break the spell of Keith talking he shifted to his side and crept his hand forward, bringing it to rest on Keith’s shoulder and giving it the lightest squeeze.

Keith’s next breath was shaky and then he spoke again, “He took me out of my bedroom, into the hall. I saw the flames then. They were on the stairs. We couldn’t go down.” 

Lance’s heart pounded in his chest, picturing this. He involuntarily squeezed tighter on Keith’s shoulder.

“Dad covered my mouth with the blanket. But he didn’t cover his own mouth and he was coughing so much.” Keith needed another moment to compose himself. “The only place to go was back into my bedroom. I liked to sleep with my window open, but it was right next to my bed and dad had always worried I’d roll out in my sleep so…” Keith sniffed, his voice going a pitch higher. “... so he rigged it so it wouldn’t open more than six inches. Somehow I squeezed through onto the part that overhangs the porch and my dad pushed one corner of the blanket out the window and he said, ‘hold onto this when I lower you. When it stretches as far as it can, you have to jump.’”

Keith was shaking. Lance could feel the tremble through his hand, but he held tight as if he could steady Keith.

“I was scared,” said Keith, his voice clipped, “But my dad said I had to be brave and if I did that he could meet me on the ground. So I crawled backwards until my legs were dangling off the edge of the awning then I held tight and let him lower me… lower me until I couldn’t see him anymore.” The first sob escaped Keith. His hand shot up to slap on top of Lance’s and hold it like that on his shoulder. Like he could help ground himself with Lance’s help.

“I could hear him coughing… He was coughing so much and I didn’t want to let go like he told me to. I wasn’t brave like that, but my arms got tired and I fell anyway.” Keith tucked his head against their hands and kept going. “When I hit the ground I got right back up and started yelling, screaming for him to climb down…then… then… the blanket fell. Just slid off the awning and fell down on top of me and part of me knew what that meant. Part of me knew he could never fit through that window… knew his arms got tired too and he also let go…”

Lance was trembling too now, like he was trying to hold back a need to run from this. It hurt so much, he didn’t want to hear it, but Keith needed him there to keep telling it. And if the one real comfort he could offer Keith was to stay with him through it, he would.

“I couldn’t accept what I knew so I kept yelling for him, only stepping back far enough so the heat stopped searing my skin. I wrapped the blanket around me to protect myself which was stupid. It was fleece. It should’ve caught fire, but somehow it didn’t. When the structure started to collapse I moved back further, but only as far as I had to… I was sick with the smoke. I was coughing up black, but I couldn’t let go of that last shred of hope… If the house was still there, my dad could still come back out of it…”

“The flames took almost everything. The shed was far enough away that the sparks didn’t travel, but the house… by morning there was almost nothing.”

Lance moved, shifting himself so he could wrap his arms around Keith’s chest just like he’d hugged him the other day. Keith wrapped his arms across Lance’s as Lance tucked his face against Keith’s neck. Here he could feel the stuttered shake of Keith’s body and the quiet sobs that escaped him. His own tears pooled against the crook of Keith’s neck.

All these years Keith had never confided in Lance how his father had died. He’d imagined many scenarios with his overactive imagination, but the theory he’d eventually settled on was illness. He’d pictured Keith nursing his dying father so many times in his head… Them exchanging final goodbyes… Having that last meaningful moment together that Keith carried around like a bright light inside him, guiding his actions.

He never would’ve thought it had gone like this. That it had been sudden and terrifying and meaningless. 

Now Lance thought he could catch a whiff of smoke on the blanket covering him. Or maybe… maybe it was in Keith’s hair. Like he carried the scent of the fire with him wherever he went. Like it became a part of him and kept smouldering inside behind ash grey eyes.

A new understanding dawned on Lance. This, more than anything, had been why Keith hadn’t wanted him to come here. It wasn’t that Keith felt ashamed of where he lived, of the shed that became his home when his real one burned down. It was that the ghost of what had happened hung over this place. That he knew once Lance was here he’d break his long silence on the story of his father’s tragic death.

So he’d been protecting himself from reliving that pain. Somehow he’d known Lance would draw it out of him.

Keith had gone over his own story in his head thousands of times. Usually on nights like this when the air was too cold to sleep and his thoughts became restless and dipped into dark places. He’d never spoken the words out loud before. Never imagined he could. 

Keith wasn’t brave. He’d gotten tired. He’d let go and fallen instead of jumping. But instead of hitting the hard ground he found himself with Lance hugging his shoulders.

It was a bizarre juxtaposition, the contrast of what he felt, those two huge powerful emotions. In some ways he was that little boy again, crying in the dirt and lying to himself that his dad would make it out and he wouldn’t be alone in the world. But then… he had Lance showing him with his touch that he wasn’t alone.

Lance had come into his life so soon after he lost his dad and had refused to leave. Going so far as nearly dying of exposure in the desert to keep Keith from pushing him away.

Lance’s fear when Keith told him he was sick… the increase in worry when he told him it had been far worse than that…

Did Lance care for him like Keith had loved his dad? Would his world shatter if Lance lost him?

And…

What kind of pain would Keith feel if he lost Lance?

Keith wasn’t brave. He could never jump.

Only… fall.

“Thanks,” said Lance, his voice barely a whisper. “For sharing that with me.”

Lance fell asleep in that position, his arms loosening as he drifted off. Despite Keith bragging that he was good at falling asleep he stayed awake long, trying to calm the swirl of emotions inside of himself.

Eventually he did drop, but woke a short time later to movement. Lance trembled, his arms vibrating against Keith’s shoulders. Keith wondered if he was crying again, but his breathing was deep. He touched Lance’s hand to find it icy cold. 

Lance shifted in his sleep, rolling over, letting a “brrrrr” escape. Keith was cold too, but…

Lance woke up as Keith tucked the second blanket around him. “What are you doing?” mumbled.

“Preventing finding a corpse on my couch in the morning.”

Lance rubbed his eyes. “Then you’ll freeze.”

“I’ve been colder. Trust me,” said Keith. A memory flashed in his head of twisting on that couch, feeling so cold from the fever that he felt like he’d never be warm again.

Keith went to sit back on the floor, but Lance’s arm shot out and grabbed his wrist. It startled Keith and he let out a gasp.

“Don’t be stupid,” mumbled Lance.

“I’m not being stupid,” snapped Keith, try to take back his wrist, but Lance held tight.

“Just come sleep here,” said Lance, finally letting go so he could wiggle himself to press his back to the back of the couch.

“No” said Keith.

“Body heat, Keith” said Lance, like this was a foreign concept (okay, maybe for Keith it was.)

“I…” began Keith.

“It’s no different than hugging,” said Lance, “and you’ve damn near mastered that.”

“Shut up,” said Keith, crossing his own arms across his chest. 

“Okay, it’s your choice,” said Lance, dropping it.

Keith sat down on the ground. He could handle being cold. 

“Be cold if you like,” said Lance, somehow still talking. “Just know you don’t have to be… and I could be warmer too. Mutual benefit.”

Keith ignored him. He was already getting uncomfortable in the cold. So maybe he would be too cold to sleep. He spent half his nights awake anyway.

“Brrrr…” Lance shivered again, the extra blanket not doing the trick.

“Seriously,” snapped Keith. Standing up. Lance was shocked by the sudden dramatics. Keith pulled off Lance’s covers and his immediate thought was his babyness meant he’d lost blanket privileges. “How is your body this bad at regulating temperature?” Then Keith dropped himself down onto the couch and swung his legs up so he could settle down with his back to Lance.

Was this actually happening? Was this for real?

Keith dropped the blankets back down on top of both of them. So it was happening.

“My body is acclimatized to Cuban weather,” said Lance, hoping the nerves weren’t too evident in his voice. I mean… he’d asked for this, but… wow. The couch was small and Keith’s back was touching Lance’s front. Keith never initiated touch. It was always Lance first.

Keith made a dismissive sound, not bothering to argue with Lance’s totally valid point.

“Also, why is it so cold here? Aren’t deserts hot?”

“Not at night,” said Keith.

“That doesn’t seem right, Keith. You should get that checked out.” As Lance spoke he adjusted himself ever so carefully, pressing himself properly against Keith and creeping his top arm round Keith’s front. He was half expecting Keith to push him off, but all he did was grunt at Lance’s terrible joke.

So they were just… spooning.

He’d made the bodyheat suggestion on a whim when he was half asleep. He hadn’t expected Keith to take him up on it. Lance literally had to bite down on his tongue to keep from whispering, “I’m the big spoon.” He was oddly exhilarated by this and it was hard not to express it out loud.

There was a howl from outside. Lance involuntarily gripped Keith quite tightly.

“It’s just Kosmo,” mumbled Keith.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of…”

“He’s outside.”

“Yeah… how strong is that door?”

“I locked it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“... Can you check?”

“Goodnight, Lance,” said Keith, forcefully.

Lance wiggled around to get proper comfy. He was already warming up. Keith did run hotter than him and spooning him was like cuddling with a heated body pillow. He felt safe and warm.

Soft, even breath against Keith’s neck told him Lance had fallen asleep right away. It must be easy for Lance to relax in this position when touch was his second nature. This was foreign and strange to Keith. Not unwelcome… just overwhelming.

Lance had been right about sharing body heat because Keith could feel the warmth radiating from Lance.

Lance was so warm… Always so warm and Keith hated the way he feared it would burn him.


	5. The music was good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons in friendship.

Lance woke up to light on his face. The memories of where he was and the events of yesterday returned with a wince of his bite wound. Then he suddenly remembered falling asleep spooning Keith. He felt a rush of heat in his cheeks as his arm searched ahead of him. Just the couch.

He opened his eyes and saw no sign of Keith in the small space.

“What was your plan?”

Lance startled from the voice then relaxed when he finally saw Keith, sitting against the window, one leg propped up on the sill.

“Geez, Keith, I know you’re not used to seeing someone first thing in the morning, but I don’t usually start the day mid-conversation,” scolded Lance, pushing himself up to sitting. “Try a good morning first.”

“What was your plan?” Keith repeated. His eyes were focused out the window, not looking at Lance.

It put Lance ill at ease. “My plan?”

“To find me,” said Keith, still looking out the window. “You wouldn’t have just walked into the Bad Lands with no plan. You’ve always had a plan when you’ve caught me in the past.”

“Not true… the time at Hunk’s was a coincidence.”

“So what was it this time?” Keith turned his face towards Lance and he was struck by the coldness there. He’d been so warm last night when they fell asleep. What had changed in the dark while Lance had slept?

Shame seeped into Lance’s chest as he realized he couldn’t lie to Keith. “I put a tracking device on the jar of peanut bar.”

Keith stood up and walked to the shelf where he had food stored. He picked up the jar, strode over to Lance, and pushed it into his arms. He turned his head away as he said, “Let’s go. I’ll drive you back home.”

Outside, in the light of day, Lance saw it. The remains of the house, black as night and laid out beside the shed. It looked as though work had been done breaking down what remained and dragged off to the side. Still so much work was left to be done. 

It pained Lance like nothing else to imagine Keith in work gloves, slowly making progress on cleaning up the shell of the house that had taken his father’s life and Keith’s innocence along with it. 

Keith avoided looking that way so Lance said nothing even though part of him desperately wanted to hug Keith, shelter him, never let go. But he had a strong sense Keith wanted none of that. 

Kosmo ran alongside them as they drove across the desert, racing the rising sun. Lance’s arm felt strong enough to hold on to Keith with both hands. It felt different though today. Like no matter how tightly he held him, Keith felt stiff and unwelcoming to his touch.

When they reached a wooded area close enough for Lance to walk to his bus stop, Keith pulled over.

Lance had spent the ride attempting to find the right words to say to Keith. To say sorry for intruding, but that he wasn’t sorry for what he learned about Keith. That there was nothing Keith could show him that would scare Lance away.

Lance was just standing there, struggling to put words in order in his head so he could say them out loud when Keith pulled his backpack from the back of the ATV. He unzipped it and pulled out the fleece blanket with the wolves.

“Here,” said Keith, his voice croaky as he held it out to Lance.

“That’s yours,” said Lance, not moving at all.

“My dad took it from you,” said Keith, pushing forward a bit.

Lance just stared at the blanket. It may have been his once, but it had so much more meaning for Keith.

“Look, I don’t want to owe you anything,” said Keith, forcefully. He pushed the blanket against Lance’s chest. 

Keith released the blanket as he turned away so Lance had to catch it before it hit the ground.

“Keith,” said Lance, quietly as Keith climbed back onto the ATV. He swallowed hard, tears threatening to betray him and start flowing. “I’m sorry I invaded your privacy. But it’s hard to not when the only way I’ve gotten to know you is by pushing.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t force it,” said Keith, pulling his goggles over his eyes.

“I know you don’t have any other friendships to compare this to and so maybe you don’t realize that friends fuck up with each other. They fight, Keith. You’re not… you’re far from the only person I’ve disappointed. Still, you’re the last person I want to lose.”

Keith glanced up at Lance then looked down, shoulders tight up to his ears. With his goggles on, Lance couldn’t see how he was taking this.

“If you need to be the one that comes to me, that chooses when you see me… If you only ever come to my place and go whenever you please then I can accept that boundary. But I want you to know I cherish what I learned about you last night and I want to learn more if you choose to show me.”

Keith revved the ATV’s engine and drove off. Most people would at least acknowledge the very personal confession Lance had just shared, but then this was Keith and Keith didn’t know how to ‘people.’

**********

“What’s wrong, mijo?” asked Lance’s mom. “You’ve barely eaten your arroz con pollo.”

“Tired from your sleepover perhaps?” asked his dad. “School nights aren’t meant for staying up late and playing video games.”

Lance sighed. He’d forgotten about his lie. Part of him wanted to come clean because the worst part about having a secret Keith was never being able to talk about him and right now Lance was in turmoil and really wished he could reach out for help. 

“Uh oh,” said Rachel. “That is some grade A teenage angst moping right there.” It was just the four of them at dinner and had been like that since Marco had gone back to college after the summer and Veronica had left for university for the first time.

“I’m not moping,” snapped Lance. Then he sighed. How could he talk about this, without ‘talking’ about this? “I had a fight… with Hunk.”

“Did you try to kiss him?”

“Rachel!” snapped their mom.

“That isn’t funny,” said their dad.

“And I wasn’t joking,” said Rachel, defensively. “Is that seriously how you’re going to react to the idea of Lance kissing a boy? Is that appropriate or should we treat it like a possibility and not be completely homophobic?”

Their parents were struck silent then Lance’s mom turned to him and asked very calmly, “So did you try to kiss him?”

“I didn’t try to kiss him!” snapped Lance.

“Hunk is a very nice boy,” said Lance’s dad. Oh right… they were talking about Hunk.

“I’m not interested in Hunk,” grumbled Lance. “What happened was… I invited myself over without asking and at first he seemed annoyed, but then he relaxed and we had a nice time then before we went to sleep he told me this really personal story about his dad –”

“About Paulo?” asked his dad, using Mr. Garrett’s first name.

“Uh… yeah… and I thought it proved he trusted me and I felt really good about it, but then in the morning he was really cold to me and I don’t understand why he changed so much. I’m worried he’ll never want to see me again…” Lance looked down at his lap.

“Didn’t you just see him at school?” asked Rachel.

“Uh yeah, but… uh –”

“I think I may understand,” said Lance’s mom, saving him without realizing it. “Maybe last night Hunk felt safe and was able to be vulnerable with you, but this morning he felt embarrassed and didn’t know how to act and pushed you away because of that. I don’t think it has anything to do with you, mijo.”

“But how do I help him feel less embarrassed?”

“You can’t. He needs to get over it in his own time. The best you can do is let him know you’ll still be there.”

“How do I do that if I don’t know when I’ll see him again?”

“Again,” interjected Rachel, “Do you not ride the bus with him everyday?”

“You’re a good friend to have, mijo,” said Lance’s dad. “Hunk will come around.”

“Sometimes,” said his mom, taking his hand, “we just need to have faith that things will work out.”

She smiled at him and Lance worked to return the smile though his heart wasn’t in it.

***********

“Uh oh,” said Pidge on the bus the next day. “I know that look. That’s the ‘my plans to catch the Hermit failed again’ look. Tracker a no go?”

“Yeah, uh, I think he smashed it,” said Lance, shifting in his seat. He’d smashed the thing himself with a rock.

“You’ll get him next time, pal,” said Pidge, spinning back around in their seat.

“Sure…” mumbled Lance, sinking lower in his own seat.

***********

“What is it this time?”

Lance woke up with a start because someone was speaking to him. Did he fall asleep in class again?

“Huh? What was the question?” asked Lance, sitting up. Wait… he was in his living room. 

“What did you do?”

“Keith?” said Lance, rubbing his eyes. “Keith!”

He came back!

“If I go into the pantry will there be a motion sensor that goes off? Or did you plant another tracking device on the food?”

Never mind. He was mad.

“What are you talking about?” groaned Lance. 

“It’s you, Lance! I know you! You’re not going to just leave me alone.”

“Okay, well I didn’t do anything because I told you I wouldn’t,” said Lance, controlling his annoyance. “Can I go back to sleep now?” Lance spun around, cuddled up facing the back of the couch, and closed his eyes. He stayed like this until he heard Keith sigh and leave.

Keith had been all hyped up, but felt all that energy leave him as he looked at Lance curled up and facing away from him. His shoulders drooped and he walked back into the kitchen.

In the pantry, he let routine take over, packing away the food the McClain’s had left for him. After he packed the apples and zipped up he noticed something at the back of the shelf. He reached out and touched something that felt so familiar.

He pulled his blanket off the shelf, letting it unfurl to show those three wolves howling at the moon. Something drifted to the floor. Keith bent to pick it up. It was a folded piece of paper. He opened it up and read the note inside:

I want you to have this. I want you to have everything you want. Lance xo

Keith’s heart squeezed inside his chest as he lifted the blanket to his cheek.

***********

It had been tempting to get up and talk to Keith. Argue with him into submission until he agreed to be his friend again, but Lance remembered what his mom had said. He needed to have faith. And so he fell right back asleep, holding on to trust like a pillow.

When he woke up again, still in the dark of night, he was sure he was dreaming. That had to explain what he saw: Keith, curled up with his blanket on the end of the couch, sleeping.

Lance had to reach out to check. To see if he was real. Keith stirred, slowly opening his eyes.

“You stayed,” whispered Lance.

Lance’s hand was warm on Keith’s arm. He didn’t take it back, even when Keith woke up.

“What do I need to do?” asked Keith, looking groggy.

“What do you mean?”

“To be better,” said Keith. “To do friendship the right way.”

“I don’t think friendship has a right way…,” said Lance.

“You know what I mean. I don’t want to get frustrated and I don’t want you to feel like I’m rejecting you when I’m just feeling scared.”

Lance brightened. “I’ve actually been thinking about this.”

“About how I can be better?” asked Keith, an edge entering his voice. 

“No, just how we can make this work a bit better,” said Lance quickly. “I think when it comes down to it what bugs me is I never know when I’m going to see you. You have complete control over when we hangout.”

“So what, Lance? So I have one thing that you don’t have,” snapped Keith. Lance clammed up, upset by this change in tone. Keith saw Lance’s reaction and cooled down. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Maybe we can set up a regular day… well, night.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” said Lance, getting so excited he moved onto his knees. “How about Saturday nights at 1:30?”

“Why 1:30?” asked Keith.

“Because Rachel’s curfew is at one am so that guarantees we won’t be interrupted. Actually…,” said Lance, rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s my curfew too, but we both know I come and go as I please.”

“But what about you going out on Saturday night?” asked Keith, carefully. “Don’t you wanna be free to have a social life?”

“But you are my life!” Lance heard it as soon as he said it and felt his cheeks grow hot. “Social life – you are my social life.”

“O - kay,” said Keith, slowly. “I’ll come every Saturday at 1:30.” 

“It’s a date!” said Lance then he immediately regretted his wording and cleared his throat. “But also… if you don’t show up at least then I’ll know something’s up.”

“Right…” said Keith. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if he got sick or hurt and Lance figured it out and came looking for him. He glanced at the window and noticed the darkness had left off just a bit as dawn approached. “I should go before I get caught here.”

“Okay,” said Lance, hopping up so he could escort Keith to the back door. Keith wrapped his own blanket around his shoulders and picked up his bag. Together they walked slowly through the living room and into the kitchen.

Lance held open the door, but Keith paused. “So…,” he said, shifting on his feet. “I’ll see ya Saturday.” Before he lost his nerve he stepped closer and hugged Lance. He went to step right back, but Lance caught him in his arms and pulled him properly tight against him.

“See you Saturday.”

Keith tensed, hearing the movement first. Then Lance reacted too, turning to the sound of someone coming down the stairs.

“Crap,” swore Lance. It was later than he thought if his parents were up for the day. “Go, go, go,” he said, shoving Keith out the door. He slammed it in his face then winced, opened it a crack and whispered, “Sorry.”

Keith grinned, ten feet into his retreat already. Lance paused, something about that smile made him want to keep staring.

“Mijo?” came his mother’s voice behind him. “Is someone at the door?”

Lance pushed the door shut and spun around. “Milkman.”

“Milkman?” repeated his mom, confused. “We don’t get milk delivered…”

“No, he was advertising his services, giving his sales pitch,” said Lance, the lies coming in quick and hard.

“But we’re a farm with dairy cows…”

“Which is exactly what I told him,” said Lance, walking up to his mom and steering her away from the door.

“And he came to the back door? Before dawn?”

“You know, now that you mention it, it was all kinda fishy. I don’t really think he was on the up and up,” rambled Lance, nervously.

“Hmmm,” said Lance’s mom, stopping to push open the pantry door and peak inside. Oh no… must divert. 

“Hey,” said Lance, spinning to face her, “I just remember I have a science project due today and I haven’t started.”

“You haven’t started it?!” She snapped her head around to glare at Lance. “Mijo!”

Three hours later Lance climbed onto the bus with a paper mache volcano.

“Ummm,” said Hunk and Pidge in unison as he came to sit in the seat behind them.

“Don’t ask,” he warned them, dropping it unceremoniously to the side. He sighed happily and leaned his arms and chin on the front of the seat. Only four more days until Saturday…

**********

Weekly hangouts with Keith were the best! Always knowing when to expect Keith meant Lance could actually plan things for them to do. When the weather was nice, he could prep food and stash it out in the barn and they could have late night picnics.

Lance even made Keith a cake for his birthday. He told his parents there was a bake sale at school. When Rachel contradicted his story, Lance said it wasn’t his fault she forgot. There was a newsletter about it and everything.

They met in the graveyard that night and ate cake on Lance’s Husky fleece then wandered the grounds, reading gravestones. At one point Keith had hugged his arms and said he’d wished his dad had a grave to visit. Lance had gone into the woods and found the biggest rock he could find. Keith used his knife to scratch in the info he knew about his dad. He didn’t know what year he was born, but he knew his name and the year he died.

“Kogane,” said Lance, reading the rock. “Now I know your last name.”

“Is it really my last name if I don’t have a birth certificate?” asked Keith.

“I guess it still is if you want to claim it.”

Keith nodded. “I do.”

Keith knelt and flipped the rock over. When Lance looked at him strangely he said, “Better off if no one reads it.” He rubbed the back of the stone. “It’s okay though. I know what it means.”

“We both do,” said Lance. Kneeling down beside Keith and letting their knees press together.

When it got colder, Keith had ideas for places they could sneak into. They spent the night in the library once, moving quietly between the stacks while Keith searched for books with useful info to take back with him.

“ATV is giving me trouble again,” said Keith as they poked through the auto-mechanics section.

“You know they lend out these books for free, right?” said Lance, he was already holding a stack of books Keith had chosen.

“That would involve me coming here during the day,” said Keith. “And having actual ID to get a library card.”

“Or I could borrow what you need.”

“What fun would that be?” said Keith with a smirk. Lance often found himself agreeing with that smirk. “I’ll return them after I’ve read them.”

“Like how legitimate book borrowing works…”

“I don’t do anything legitimately,” chuckled Keith.

A week later Keith suggested they catch a movie. Lance was absolutely confused until Keith jimmied open the lock at the local theatre. He said he didn’t know how to run the projector, wouldn’t risk it if he did, but he’d brought his portable DVD player and…

“Into the Wild?” gasped Lance when Keith pulled it out of his backpack. “I’ve been looking for a copy for you! Where did you find it?”

“The library had it,” said Keith. “And since you’ve brought it up so many times I had the title seared into my brain.”

They snuck candy and stale popcorn from the concession and settled down into the theatre seats to watch the movie with the DVD player balanced on their shared armrest. Keith fell asleep halfway through and Lance would’ve woken him up angrily, because how dare he fall asleep during the movie Lance most associated with him, but then… he’d dropped with his head on Lance’s shoulder and he didn’t dare disturb that.

Lance finally had to shrug his shoulder when the credits were playing.

“Hey,” mumbled Keith, waking up with the movement. He lifted his head up while stretching out his arms. “Sorry I fell asleep.”

“Not interesting enough for you?” teased Lance.

“Hmmm,” mumbled Keith, voluntarily dropping his head back onto Lance’s shoulder and shutting his eyes “Not really.”

“Hey!”

“But the music was good,” murmured Keith.

“It was, wasn’t it?” agreed Lance. He hit the volume up so Eddie Veder’s voice filled the space of the dark theatre. He watched the soft smile appear on Keith’s lips, highlighted by the glow of the small screen.

Scruffy though he was, Keith was pretty. Angelic even in this lighting. 

“Why are you staring?” asked Keith, peaking through one eye.

“I don’t know,” said Lance, embarrassed, shifting his eyes to his knees. Why did these moments make him want to commit Keith’s face to memory?

After Keith had stashed his ATV he walked Lance back to his door and Lance decided to bring out the big guns. “Can I take your picture?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“No,” said Keith. Then after a pause he asked, “Why would you want to take my picture?”

“Because sometimes I want to look at your face when you’re not around and my imagination is wildly abstract.”

“I can’t let you have photographic evidence of me,” said Keith.

“You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you,” said Keith, taking Lance’s arm and forcing him to stop walking. “But it’s still a no. No photographs. It was one of my dad’s rules.”

“Yeah, but if you break it, I won’t tell him,” joked Lance. He was hoping to be cute, but Keith frowned and went to walk ahead. “Okay, okay, no photo. I give up. I won’t ask again.”

“Good,” said Keith, slowing his step so Lance could catch up.

Lance didn’t want to push it and get into a real fight. Tonight had been the perfect outing and he didn’t want to spoil it. Besides… he’d just had a brilliant idea!

After Keith hugged him goodbye at the door (he’d gotten way better at hugging lately, talkin’ full arm wrap and good amount of pressure,) Lance said, “I’m planning the outing for next week.”

“Okay,” said Keith, with a shrug, turning to head off.

“But it’s kinda far so I need you to drive. That cool?”

“Yeah. I’ll fill the tank before I pick you up.”

“Great, see you then,” said Lance, stealing an extra hug. Hey, it was cool. Keith stole stuff all the time. 

Lance snuck in the backdoor and shut it quietly, used to the routine of not making a sound as he came and went during the night.

“Ah ha!” said a voice out of nowhere as the kitchen lights flipped on. And then there was Rachel wearing her best ‘gotcha!’ face.

“Hey, Rach,” said Lance, casually, pulling up his prepared lie. “Did you hear those raccoons too because I was just checking –”

“Save it!” said Rachel. “I know there’s no raccoons. You are fully clothed.”

“I fell asleep in my clothes,” said Lance, having this lie prepared as well.

Rachel advanced on him. “That is not what you wore yesterday. You certainly didn’t spend the day with me cleaning out the barn dressed in a button up. Why are you looking so nice, Lance? You don’t even dress this nice for church.”

Uh oh.

“I’m… sleep grooming?”

“Weak… sauce,” said Rachel, darkly. “You know, I knew it all along. I knew you weren’t some goody-two-shoe kid with no social life to speak of. So what are you up to at night?”

“Okay, okay, you caught me,” said Lance. “I went over to Hunk’s house. He had a fight with his girlfriend and really needed a friend to talk to.”

“Hmm,” said Rachel, pacing back and forth, considering Lance. “But then why would you be dressed up and why would you look so damn happy when you came in?”

Okay, Lance might actually be busted at this point.

“Ah ha!” said Rachel suddenly. “You are in love with Hunk and you want him to break up with his girlfriend so you can have him to yourself and that’s why you made yourself look so good and why you’re so pleased they’re fighting!”

“Uh… I can neither confirm nor deny that at this time.”

“That’s a yes! Woo! Genius sister!” bragged Rachel then she held out her hand.

“What’s that?” asked Lance, looking at his sister’s empty palm.

“That’s the, not telling mom and dad you snuck out tax. Pay up.”

“Um…,” said Lance, reaching into his back pocket where he knew there was zero money. “Junior Mints?” he said, slapping the half eaten box into his sister’s palm. “Night!” he called out, heading off to his couch before she could say anything.


	6. The lights go out... let me feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance takes Keith on a very special outing.

Next week Keith parked his ATV in his usual hiding spot and got off to go collect Lance from his house.

“Hey!”

Keith just about punched the intruder when he realized it was Lance stepping out of the bush. Lance froze when he saw Keith’s stance.

“Shit… Lance,” muttered Keith, dropping his fists. “I thought I’d pick you up at the door.”

“I was too excited!” said Lance. “I couldn’t wait!”

“Where are we going?” asked Keith.

“Augdenville,” said Lance.

“Cool. Let’s go,” said Keith.

“Hold on,” said Lance, looking Keith up and down. “You’re wearing new clothes.” 

“So?” said Keith, busying himself climbing on the ATV so Lance did not see his reaction to him noticing this.

“So?! I didn’t get them for you, which means you stole them.” Lance couldn’t stop staring because not only were they new clothes, but they were nice clothes. A red flannel shirt layered with a navy blue corduroy bomber jacket, new black skinny jeans, and leather shoes?! “Yeah, these are nice. You stole them from a store, didn’t you?”

“You don’t know that,” said Keith, pulling down his goggles. “Maybe I ordered them online.”

“Impossible,” said Lance, climbing on the back. “Because you don’t have internet access, you don’t have a credit card, and you don’t have a P.O. Box that’s the Hermit no-no starter pack.” Lance had been busy counting things off on his fingers so when Keith lurched forward (perhaps on purpose) he was jerked back then had to dive forward to grab hold of Keith’s waist.

“Great deduction, Sherlock,” sassed Keith.

“We really need to work on your lying skills, Keith.”

“I’m fine. I managed not to tell you where I got my clothes, didn’t I?”

“Yes, that’s concealing information. It is not the same as lying. I know you’re an expert at concealing the truth, but you’ve only lied to me once about being sick and I figured out you were lying very quickly.”

“Do you want me to lie to you?” asked Keith because who else would he even talk to, let alone lie to.

“No, of course not, but at some point you might need to lie for me. I lie to protect the discovery of your existence constantly in fact… you might be the only person in my life I’ve never lied to…”

They both fell quiet and let that sink in. Keith wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He was glad Lance was always honest with him. He didn’t think he could handle it if he ever thought he wasn’t. The part that threw him was trying to imagine what Lance’s other relationships looked like. He didn’t have any examples of what a typical life looked like beyond what he’d read in books and seen in movies and Lance was always quick to point out that those weren’t accurate (except for Into the Wild which Lance swore was completely accurate because it was based on a true story.)

Not accurate in what way though?

“Do you know where you’re going?” asked Lance when Keith left the country road.

“Does it not look like I know where I’m going?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not know how to get to Augdenville?” gasped Keith.

“I do know how to get to Augdenville on the main roads,” said Lance, defensively. “I did scope out this place before.”

“So you need a road to figure out where you are?” asked Keith. “No wonder you got lost in the Bad Lands.”

“I’m sorry, but are you claiming you always know where you are and what direction everything is in?”

“Of course,” said Keith. “Do you really not have a sense of direction?”

“Okay, you know what? No need to give me shit. We can’t all be dashing, rugged, badass hermits like you.”

“Dashing?” repeated Keith.

“You know what I mean,” said Lance, tucking his head against Keith’s back. He always did that when he was embarrassed. This time it was soft because Keith’s jacket collar was lined with sheepskin. It calmed him right back down. “Besides, why do I need to know where I am when I have you?”

*************

Lance’s choice for an outing was completely a surprise to Keith. He even made him pull up through the back alley so he wouldn’t have a clue until they’d scaled a wall and slipped in through a window with a broken latch.

“I’m getting really good at noticing when windows and doors are broken,” bragged Lance. “And in small towns no one ever fixes anything because there is no crime,” then he gestured to Keith, “beyond you. No offense.”

“None taken,” said Keith, looking around the bathroom they’d just broken into. “I hope this isn’t it.”

“Yeah, I mean, the tiling really screamed Keith to me when I first saw – of course I am kidding. We’re here for what’s outside the bathroom.” Lance went into his shoulder bag and pulled out two flashlights and handed one to Keith. They flicked them on and Lance led the way out the door.

The next room seemed pretty much empty, minus a squishy looking bench in the middle and Keith was confused as to what was special about this place until he shined his light on the nearest wall. There was a large picture frame and inside it…

“Whoa,” muttered Keith, stepping closer. It was a drawing, no, a painting of knight dressed in armour, brandishing a shining sword. He had it pointed towards a giant lion, set ready to pounce. But it wasn’t just that the painter had made the armour grey and the sword silver and the lion brown, no, every colour was made up of strokes of multitudes of colour and the effect made the scene look so alive like Keith felt he could step into it.

“We come here at least once a year on a field trip,” explained Lance. “I mean… there’s only so many places for us to go. It’s kinda the same ol’ same ol’ to me, but I figured you’ve never been to an art gallery before.”

“There’s more?” asked Keith, finally peeling his eyes away to look back at Lance.

“Um, yeah,” said Lance letting his flashlight beam travel about the room, lighting up other works on every wall. “This isn’t even the only room.”

The Augdenville Fine Arts Museum had three galleries total. Each room fairly small, maybe twenty by twenty. Lance could do the whole museum in a ten minute walk through. Keith, however, was getting hours of amusement out of it.

Instead of looking at each piece of artwork in turn and moving on, Keith spent a good ten minutes with each piece, stepping back for a bit then moving in closer with his flashlight, taking in every detail. Sometimes he’d move onto the next only to turn back and go back to reexamine the last one.

Lance eventually grew tired of standing and took over the cushy bench in the middle of the gallery, laying down on his belly and watching Keith from there, rotating whenever Keith made his way to a new wall.

“You’re bored,” said Keith, the first thing he’d said in over an hour.

“I’m not,” said Lance, he was fascinated watching Keith become so engulfed in each piece of art. It made him feel like he’d picked the perfect location for their outing. He felt so happy, he didn’t mind waiting. 

“We should get going,” said Keith, hiking his backpack up higher on his shoulder.

“We’re good still. I'm keeping an eye on the time.” Lance flashed his phone.

Keith raised his eyebrow. “You shouldn’t carry that around. That’s how the government tracks people.”

Lance laughed sharply. “Oh, here we go…”

“What?”

“I’ve just been waiting years for the conspiracy theories about the government to come out. I figured you had to have some as a rugged, badass hermit.”

“No dashing this time?”

Lance felt heat in his cheeks. He’d deliberately left that one off the list this time. “You’re dashing when you’re driving your ATV. You’re not dashing when you’re not in motion.”

“Oh, so you’re using the word dashing literally?” said Keith with an eyeroll. “And I'm not a conspiracy theorist. There is literally a GPS tracker on your phone.”

“Fine. I’ll turn it off,” said Lance, going into his setting.

“Okay, you know that doesn’t really turn it off, right?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

“Okay, but you know what else my phone can do? Mood music,” said Lance, holding up Spotify.

“What, you didn’t bring your flute?”

“No, but I have this,” said Lance, hitting play on the Into the Wild Soundtrack.

Keith listened to the intro to the song Society then nodded, “I’ll allow it.” He turned back to the painting he was studying.

Lance kept an eye on the time and an hour later, he took Keith by the arm and led him away from the one piece of abstract art he’d been examining for the past eleven minutes. “Okay, I’m cutting you off.”

“Time to go?”

“Actually, there’s one more room I want to show you.”

“There’s another gallery?” asked Keith, with excitement in his voice.

Lance laughed. “Uh, no, it’s not that.” He led Keith into the back room and reached for the lights. 

“Wait,” said Keith, stopping his hand.

“It’s okay,” said Lance. “No windows in here.”

He flipped on the light to reveal the simple art studio. “They do classes in here,” explained Lance as Keith looked around. 

“Cool,” said Keith, taking a look around the shelves of art supplies.

“Over here,” said Lance, taking Keith’s arm again and guiding him over to a small, nondescript platform in the middle of the room. “This is where you sit.”

“Why?” asked Keith, sitting down.

“All will be revealed,” said Lance wiggling his fingers in the air. Then he went over to the art supply shelves and collected what he needed, clipping a piece of paper to the oversized drawing board and grabbing some charcoal. He’d done this on field trips before. He could repeat the process.

Keith watched Lance set up a tiny folding stool in front of Keith about six feet back. Lance lifted up the oversized clipboard and Keith felt certain he knew what was about to happen.

“You wanna draw me like one of your french girls?” asked Keith, leaning back on one hand and draping the other over his head.

This caught Lance off guard, causing him to burst out laughing. He hid his face behind his clipboard, trying to get his laughter under control.

“What is wrong with you?” asked Lance, when he got his breathing under control.

“Titanic,” said Keith, defensively. It was one of his favourites of the movies Lance had given him.

“It was a solid reference, bro,” chuckled Lance. “It was just way too funny and I’m the funny one so chill a bit.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Are you actually going to draw me?”

“You said I couldn’t take a photo of you, Keith. This is my compromise.”

“Do you know… how to draw?” asked Keith.

“Maybe,” said Lance. “Maybe I’m an awesome artist. I’m full of surprises.”

“You’re not though.”

“Uh, I surprised you tonight!”

“No, I meant an awesome artist.” Lance made an offended noise. “Because if you were,” clarified Keith, “you would have bragged to me about it by now.”

“Okay, well, it’s not bragging if it’s true,” said Lance, clearly flustered. “I’m just confident. Nothing wrong with that.” Lance held up his thumb and closed one eye. He twisted his thumb up and down like he was measuring something.

“Do you even know what you’re doing at all?”

“Yeah, I do. Shut up or I’ll end up drawing you with your mouth open.”

Keith rolled his eyes again and shut his mouth.

“Also, make an attempt to smile. You’ve got serious resting bitch face.”

“What about my face?” asked Keith.

“Oh right, I guess you wouldn’t know much about what your face does when you’re not paying attention to it seeing as you’ve never had your picture taken.”

Keith shrugged. He wasn’t sure what he was missing out on. 

“Hold still,” warned Lance, putting charcoal to paper finally. 

Keith got comfortable and just sat there like Lance wanted, watching him poke his tongue out in concentration as he worked. All that time spent examining art had left Keith’s eyes tired. Now would be a chance to relax and unfocus them, but at the same time… he had an excuse to just stare at Lance for as long as it took him to draw. He couldn’t pass that up. 

Lance’s face really was an open book. Every thought he had crossed across his face like Keith could hear him speaking. Those eyebrows pinching in dislike, the lip biting in consideration, the actual shaking of his head when he went to cross something out. 

He’d implied Keith’s face wasn’t so expressive, at least when he wasn’t speaking. Lance had said Keith was good at concealment and that was true. That’s what his entire life was based on, but he didn’t want to do that with Lance.

Since they’d made up from their fight, Keith had worked hard to open himself up to Lance, to be a better friend, at least in the way Keith imagined friendship worked (he only had the one he was in.) But there was one thing he kept concealed, his growing feelings for Lance.

In theory, Keith knew what homosexuality was. It was attraction to the same gender and he learned that much from the books he’d read and the movies he’d watched, but the other thing he’d learned from them is that it was rare. Love between men and women was the norm, the default. Gay people only occasionally came into these stories. It wasn’t about them and they were usually alone…

Was Keith gay? He certainly liked the way Dacre Montgomery looked if that was any indication.

Though maybe, all it was is he was doomed to fall for the only person he had contact with.

He kept defaulting to his dad’s experience. Was Keith’s mom the only person he knew? Was she someone worth loving if she’d abandoned them both?

Keith felt for sure Lance was someone worth loving, but he held no hope that Lance felt the same. Lance had an entire world of people to choose from and what was the likelihood that Keith’s one and only friend was also gay?. What were the odds of homosexuality? One in a thousand? (Keith had begun a notebook where he was tallying the number of gay vs. straight characters he found in stories. It was not looking good for gay people…)

So this was something that needed to be concealed from Lance. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship with his feelings or worse… completely scare Lance off. He didn’t want to lose Lance and despite it being hopeless, his feelings made Keith happy. He could continue being happy like this, falling for Lance from a distance.

At least if Keith was gay, he got a chance to love Lance even if it was never returned.

Lance had stopped drawing and was staring at his page.

“Let’s see it,” said Keith, standing up.

“Nope!” said Lance, quickly, dropping his board against his chest as Keith approached.

“You’re not going to let me see?” asked Keith, coming around behind Lance.

“Trust me. It’s better if you don’t.”

“Now, I have to see,” said Keith, dropping down to his knees beside him.

Lance sighed heavily. “Fiiiiine.” Lance dropped his board to his knees, but slapped his hands over top of the paper so Keith still couldn’t look. “So like… apparently art is really hard and I wasn’t the instant success I assumed I’d be. Be warned.” Lance slid his hands to the side so Keith could see the multiple attempts at drawing him on the page.

“Okay,” said Keith with a nod. “I think you captured my essence, but maybe not any of the details of my face.”

“Wow. You are the nicest art critic,” said Lance.

“I’m just trying to be encouraging.”

“Okay, but what if you didn’t know I drew them,” said Lance, scratching behind his ear with the charcoal and leaving a black streak behind. “If this was just framed and up on the wall in the gallery.”

“I’d think they’d put it there as a bet to see if anyone noticed.”

Lance laughed. “There’s the harshness I craved.”

“The only gallery it’s destined for is the trash.”

“Okay, step it back,” said Lance then he frowned. “I’m bummed this didn’t work though. I wanted to accurately capture your face.”

“I guess you’ll just have to memorize it instead,” suggested Keith.

Lance turned to look at Keith to see he was already turned to face him. He was kneeling so close that their faces were only inches apart.

Immediately after his first attempt to draw Keith, Lance had realized that even if he had any kind of art training or natural skill he was never going to accurately depict Keith on the page. 

How do you draw eyes like these? Ones that shift colour depending on the light? Irises that reflected anything and everything they saw.

Wasn’t that a metaphor for what Keith was to Lance? That he’d wrapped himself up in him so he felt Keith was part of who he was?

He lied to everyone he knew, but he’d never lie to Keith. Who he was with Keith was the purest version of himself. Sometimes he thought he might just slip up and just be one with him.

No words spoken. Gaze held for so long.

Keith lifted his hand and slipped it behind Lance’s ear. His thumb rubbed there tracing lines of electricity against Lance’s skin.

Lance’s heart was pounding, racing faster than the beat of the music as Eddie Vedder sang:

‘I’m falling… I am falling…’

Is this the moment when Lance could just… slip?

‘The lights go out  
Let me feel’

There was another way to capture those eyes… that nose… those lips… Lance’s eyes fell closed as he leaned closer. He didn’t need to see to capture this…

A loud, piercing noise replaced Vedder’s crooning and startled Lance so badly he dropped his drawing board to the ground with a loud clatter. Startled by the second noise, Lance jumped to his feet.

For a moment he was completely convinced they’d activated the alarm system at the museum (that only charged $1.50 for admission,) but Keith casually picked up Lance’s phone and said, “This the alarm you set so we leave on time?”

Fuck…

Just fuck…

“Right… leaving,” said Lance, feeling so embarrassed for freaking out at the sound. And for what he maybe just tried to do… but then… hadn’t Keith initiated?

“Here,” said Keith, standing up and handing Lance the phone so he could turn it off. While he was doing that Keith pulled the exact same move on Lance and went to stroke behind his ear.

“What are you doing?” snapped Lance, stepping back. Why was he suddenly scared?

“You have charcoal behind your ear,” said Keith, showing Lance his black thumb. “I didn’t get it all off yet.”

There was...? Keith had only been…?

Lance was so stupid…

“I got it,” said Lance, turning and walking towards the sink. 

As Lance used scratchy brown paper towel to clean off behind his ear he wondered why he felt so disappointed and unsettled. He washed his hands next, watching the water run into the paint spotted sink and decided whatever this misunderstanding was, it wasn’t worth ruining a perfect night over. 

When Lance turned back he saw Keith zipping up his backpack.

“Oh no! You better not have taken those drawings!”

“I trashed them,” said Keith and for some reason Lance immediately felt highly insulted. “I was just grabbing some supplies.”

“Like… art supplies?” questioned Lance. “But you don’t draw.”

“I do,” said Keith, strolling past Lance and heading for the door. “I sketch out all my woodworking pieces before I start on them.”

“You can’t do that,” said Lance, flipping off the light in the studio before following Keith towards the bathroom.

“It’s an important part of the process,” argued Keith.

“No, I meant, you can’t also be good at drawing.”

Keith paused, holding the bathroom door for Lance. “Also? What do you mean?”

“I mean you can already fix things like windows and ATVs and read without ever going to kindergarten and do math without ever having to sit through a Calculus class and you can carve beautiful flutes that sound amazing so no, you’re not also allowed to be an artist. It’s too much amazing in one person.”

Lance realized Keith was still holding the door open for him because Lance had stopped to monologue about how impressive he thought Keith was.

Keith’s mouth was hanging slightly open, but then he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the ground. “I don’t think I’m amazing,” he said quietly. “I think there’s a lot of pieces of me that are missing that make a whole person.”

This threw Lance. “Like what?”

“Just… anything to do with people…”

“Am I not people?” countered Lance.

“No… you’re Lance and you’re probably amazing with people.”

“You don’t know that,” said Lance. “I could be the worst. You’d never know.”

“I do know,” said Keith, “Because you got me to be your friend and I’m hopeless.”

“Not hopeless,” said Lance softly, shaking his head. Lance stepped inside, but only so far as to stand right before Keith. “Maybe you needed a friend. Maybe I was just the guy that showed up.”

Keith glanced away as he spoke. “Tonight was perfect and you knew I’d love it. That says everything about the kind of friend you are. You’re not just some guy.”

Lance felt a blush coming on and decided to move rather than let Keith see. “Well, you lucked out, Keith,” said Lance, heading to the side of the room with the window. “Your best friend just happens to be incredible.”

Lance was climbing up on the sink to reach the window when he heard Keith quietly say, “I know that.” Lance paused, his blush deepening.

The drive home was quiet. This time Lance didn’t question if Keith knew where he was going or look around with anxiety to wonder if the landscape looked right. He trusted Keith to get him home and feeling sleepy, let his head rest against Keith’s shoulder. He felt safe there, arms wrapped around Keith’s waist, just like he had the night they’d spent on Keith’s couch.

The drive went by too fast and soon Lance had to leave the warmth of Keith’s back and walk with him back to the house. 

“Same time next week?” asked Keith when they reached the door. “I’ll plan something though this will be hard to top.”

“Actually,” said Lance, “I had an idea for next week too.”

“Okay,” said Keith then he went to turn away.

“I want to run it by you though,” said Lance, quickly.

“Not surprise me?”

“Well, it would involve you coming earlier,” said Lance, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He’d had this idea before, but had completely dismissed it as impossible, but then tonight had gone so well… “Next Saturday this guy in my class, James is throwing a party. He says it's for his half birthday, like that’s a thing, but I’m pretty sure it's just because his parents will be out of town and he wants to impress the new girl.” Lance was rambling, was this necessary information?

“New girl?” repeated.

“Oh, yeah, did I not mention? Her name is Allura and like every single guy in the school is crushing on her and looking for a way to impress her, but hey, James’s parents are loaded so the party should be pretty cool.”

Keith looked down at the ground, a frown on his face. “Okay, so you want to go so you’re hoping we can hangout Friday instead?”

“What? No! I’m telling you about it because I’m inviting you to the party.”

Keith looked up at Lance and stared at him like he was crazy. “You’re kidding.”

“No, no, no, hold on I’ve been thinking this through. No one knows what you look like, right? So we could come up with a cover story for you like you’re my cousin from out of town… oh, but Rachel is going and she would know you’re not my cousin - so we’d come up with something better and we’d practice it before.”

Keith was shaking his head as he listened. “I can’t go to a party, Lance. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know it’s a lot of people and you’re used to only… well, me, but just because you’re at a party doesn’t mean you have to talk to everyone there. We’d just hangout with Pidge and Hunk because I would love so much for you to meet them. They’re both really cool people too and I know they’d like you just as much as I do and… and…” Lance could see he wasn’t winning Keith over based on the look on his face (and the fact that he was slowly backing away). “What are you thinking?” asked Lance, resigned to the ‘no’ that was about to come his way.

“I think you should go to the party Lance,” said Keith, quietly. “And I think I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Wait, no, wait,” said Lance, closing the distance between them again. “I only wanted to go if you agreed to come with me. If you’re not into it, I won’t go.”

“I don’t want you to miss out.”

“And I don’t want to miss out either on my night with you. Saturdays are our nights. Always. I won’t go.”

“Are you sure?” asked Keith.

“Absolutely,” said Lance, giving Keith a proper hug goodbye. “I’ll see you Saturday at one thirty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics included are from Long Nights by Eddie Vedder from the Into the Wild Soundtrack


	7. I didn't know where else to go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday doesn't go as planned.

“It’s one thirty in the morning, why are we still here?” demanded Lance.

“Because I keep spinning and getting Jason and I want to get Ryan,” whispered Rachel.

“This is stupid,” said Lance, gesturing to the bottle spinning around in the center of the circle. “If you like Ryan, just ask him out! Don’t make us stay out way past curfew and get in shit with mom just so you can peck him on the lips with everyone watching.”

“Okay, first,” began Rachel, full attitude sparking to life, “Mom extended our curfew to two am for tonight and second -”

Lance stopped listening as his brain went into full blown panic mode. 

“- and most guys find me too intimidating so I have to rely on pheromones released while kissing to properly attract them. It’s science and -”

“Shut up. Why would our curfew be later?”

“Because you agreed to go with me and mom knows you’re a perfect angel and would keep me out of trouble.”

This was not good. This was not good at all. Lance knew agreeing to go to this party was a dumb idea, but Rachel was bugging him because she wanted him to drive otherwise she couldn’t go and both Hunk and Pidge were begging him to go and James had loudly declared in front of the whole science class that Lance is too lame to go to parties which made him really want to prove James wrong so finally Lance caved because he figured they had to be home by one am anyway leaving half an hour before Keith showed up. He could do both. No problem, except yes problem because Rachel had been playing spin the bottle for half an hour with him begging her to leave with him. Them being late for curfew was his one card to play and now he didn’t even have that and it was already time for Keith to show up and Lance wasn’t sure how long he’d wait for Lance if at all!

“Oops, got McClain. Better spin again.” 

Lance looked up from his panic attack to see James had spun the bottle and it had landed on him. “I’m not playing,” said Lance quickly. He kinda just sat beside Rachel in the circle so he could beg her to leave and she still wasn’t leaving!

“Whatever. If it lands on a boy I get to spin again.”

Lance nodded his agreement, but then Rachel spoke up. “Um, excuse me. This whole ‘if it lands on a person of the same gender, spin again’ rule is problematic. Everyone should just agree to kiss whoever the bottle lands on or its super homophobic.”

“I am not kissing McClain,” said James, firmly. “It’s my party. I get a pass.”

“I’m not even playing,” argued Lance. He hated stupid James for throwing this stupid party that he was trapped at because of his stupid sister!

James spun again and it landed on Allura which prompted a chorus of “ohhhs” from everyone in the circle and those watching. Lance rolled his as those two leaned across the circle to kiss. This was the stupidest game in the history of games.

“When is it your turn again?” Lance whispered to Rachel because she needed to just kiss Ryan so they could go already.

“I don’t know,” said Rachel, “the person who just got kissed spins next.”

“Whoahhhh,” came a collective reaction from the crowd. Lance looked to see the bottle had spun to land on him again. 

“I’m not playing” said Lance, looking at James. James just glared back at him.

“Um, Lance,” said Rachel. “I just explained the rules to you. It was Allura who spun.”

Lance looked to see the new girl, looking at him expectantly and everyone also staring at him.

“I’m not playing,” said Lance, feeling like a broken record.

“Oh, c’mon,” said Allura in her british accent. “Get into the spirit of the game. I’m not that scary, am I?”

Idea. 

Lance groaned. “Fine.” Allura leaned in across the circle. Lance leaned across and pecked her on the lips then quickly sat back. “So now it’s my turn to spin, but I pass which means the person beside me goes who is Rachel.” He grabbed the back of his sister's hand and dragged it to the bottle in the centre. Allura had to scurry back to get out of the way. 

Lance used Rachel’s hand like a pot holder as he spun the bottle despite her protests of “Hey!” then slapped their hands back on it immediately. “Oh, look! It came up Ryan. You two kiss while I warm up the car.” Lance pushed to his feet and called over his shoulder as he headed to the door, “Meet me there in thirty seconds!”

***********

Lance sat in his running car, impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. The car’s clock said one-forty-seven am. Okay, ten minute drive home. As long as Rachel finally got in the car and they could leave right now, he could still catch Keith if Keith chose to wait half an hour.

When he heard the car door open, he groaned, “Finally!” But when he looked it was Pidge sitting in the passenger’s seat.

“Dude, you are a legend,” they said, reaching up to grab the buckle.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” protested Lance.

“You promised to be my sober ride home.”

“I did?” Lance’s mind was racing over what he might’ve agreed to when it was earlier in the evening and not - “One-fifty!” exclaimed Lance, looking at the car clock.

The back door opened, but again it wasn’t Rachel, it was Hunk. “I just heard! Lance, I’m so excited for you!”

“Did I agree to drive you home too?” asked Lance.

“Yes, me and Shay.”

“Hey, Lance!” said Shay, slipping in after Hunk so he had to slide over to the middle seat. “Everyone at the party is talking about you!”

“Was Rachel one of them? Because she should be here,” pressed Lance.

The door on the opposite side opened up and Rachel dropped into the back seat then slammed it shut.

“Finally!”

“I am not speaking to you!” snapped Rachel.

“Suit yourself,” said Lance, shifting into reverse so he could back out of James’s massively long driveway.

“You embarrassed me so badly back there! And after I defended you!”

“You are just drunk,” said Lance, making it to the road and switching to drive.

“Oh, I actually live the other way,” said Shay, speaking up.

“Fine,” said Lance, flipping his blinker and making a U-turn.

“I am not drunk!” yelled Rachel. “I am expressing my disappointment in you feeling the need to control my life!”

“I’m sure Lance is very sorry,” said Hunk, playing mediary, “but maybe you two can talk tomorrow and right now we can just be happy for him.”

“Yes,” said Lance, grumpily. “Wait… happy for me why?”

“Because you just had your first kiss!”

“I…,” Lance’s brain went into full spin out mode. “I what?!”

“I mean, I’m guessing it’s your first,” said Hunk, “You never told me about any other kisses so I assume this was your first one.”

“Also, James is furious you kissed Allura right after him,” said Pidge with a laugh, “So… bonus!”

“But I didn’t even…” Oh no! It had all happened so fast!

“Allura thinks James is cute, but full of himself,” said Shay. “And she thinks you’re nice so you might actually have a chance, Lance!”

“There is no way Lance likes Allura,” protested Rachel.

“Based on what?” asked Pidge. “No, really. I’m asking because I can’t tell these things.”

“Maybe we should ask Lance,” suggested Hunk. “So Lance, what do you say?”

“Wha…?” said Lance. He felt kinda light headed and he thought he could see flashing lights.

“We’re asking you how you feel, Lance,” said Shay.

“I feel…,” began Lance, just as the siren sounded, “... like I’m being pulled over.”

Two-forty-eight.

Two-forty-eight is the time you get home when you get a ticket for an illegal U-turn after blowing clean on a breathalyzer test then still have to drop off three different farm kids at all their different homes.

“No mom waiting up,” said Rachel when they got inside. “See, I told you they sleep like the dead and you didn’t need to stress so hard about breaking curfew.”

Lance didn’t have anything to say to that. He just wanted Rachel to go upstairs so he could fall apart over the fact that Keith wasn’t here.

Rachel got halfway up the stairs, but then she paused. “Okay, I totally hate you over that spin the bottle shit you pulled, but… if something’s on your mind you can talk to me.”

“Nothing’s on my mind,” lied Lance, sitting down on the couch. “I just wanna go to sleep.”

“Okay,” said Rachel, she stared at him for a beat before heading upstairs finally.

Lance peeled his Husky fleece off the couch so he could wrap it around his shoulders. That’s when he saw there was something hidden underneath it. A piece of paper.

Lance picked it up and examined it in the dim light. It was a drawing of Keith’s face done in charcoal. Keith must’ve drawn it himself as a gift for Lance. It absolutely perfectly captured Keith’s beauty. Except for this one drop of water on it…

That’s when Lance realized he was crying. He brushed the tears away with the back of his hand then whispered to the drawing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand you up.”

It was a long week, waiting for Saturday to come around so Lance could apologize to Keith, but…when Saturday came he never showed up.

**********

“Allura is pissed at you, you know,” said Pidge, speaking over the back of the bus seat.

“Why?” asked Lance. It was Monday morning and Lance had spent all of Sunday in his bedroom, too upset to face anyone, but now school was happening again so he had to interact with people.

“Probably because you kissed her at James’s party last week and haven’t spoken to her once since.”

“So?”

Pidge and Hunk shared a look that Lance didn’t understand.

“Lance, buddy,” said Hunk, “I realized there’s something I maybe haven’t asked you before.”

“What’s that?” asked Lance, shifting his gaze to the window. Same boring view of farmland.

“Do you like girls?”

Lance shrugged. “Yeah, they’re okay,” he mumbled.

“He didn’t understand your meaning,” whispered Pidge. “Try being more direct.”

“Okay,” whispered Hunk then he cleared his throat and said, “Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like boys?”

Lance blinked and turned back to look at the two sets of eyes peering at him over the back of the seat.

“Uh…” Lance shifted uncomfortably.

“Because you know we love and support you no matter what,” said Pidge.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to push you towards Allura,” said Hunk. “I guess I should’ve asked you who you really like.”

“Do you like someone?” asked Pidge.

“Maybe…” said Lance, feeling his face turn red. And that was it, wasn’t it? He liked Keith. Like really liked Keith. Couldn’t imagine even thinking of someone else romantically because they weren’t Keith. “I think I really like someone.”

Hunk’s eyes went wide. “Who is he?” he asked, turning to look around the bus.

“No one! You don’t know him! He goes to another school!” sputtered Lance.

***********

There was definitely something tragic in Lance realizing he had feelings for Keith only after he was gone from his life. 

But then… hadn’t Lance tried to kiss Keith at the art museum? He hadn’t even decided that’s what he wanted to do, he just went in for the kill. Like his teenage hormones had gone on autopilot.

If only that had been his first kiss and not that lame lip press between him and the new girl that people at school we’re still talking about!

Plus James kept making snide comments to Lance about his parents being poor because suddenly he was a target.

The worst part (among so many candidates for the worst part) was Lance had no idea if Keith liked him back and he couldn’t ask him because he wasn’t coming to see him anymore!

This was the constant turmoil that was inside Lance’s head. If only he could just see Keith one more time he could sort half of this shit out. But no, Keith had stopped coming by their house. Lance wrote note after note apologizing for Keith for not being there and stuck them behind the food left to him, but Keith never came to pick it up.

Lance was getting angsty and needed to do something. He was so tempted to try to find Keith’s shack again, but he’d promised him he wouldn’t go looking for him and he told himself he would keep that promise unless he thought Keith was hurt or sick. A quick ask around school let Lance know Keith was still hitting the other homes at regular frequency.

He just… he just wanted to see him again.

But he’d promised no more traps.

So Lance felt helpless yet unable to do anything. Some nights he’d walk to the edge of the Bad Lands and stare out into the dark, hoping to hear the familiar sound of Keith’s ATV. Other nights he’d get up in the middle of the night and go wander. Drive to town and walk around there, revisit the spots he’d gone with Keith.

He didn’t think he’d run into him or spot him just… maybe Keith might see him and see how sad he was and… come home already.

One night when Lance got home he was surprised to find someone waiting in the living room. He was just about to say Keith’s name when she spoke.

“Hey,” said Rachel from her spot sitting on the couch.

Lance felt like every muscle in his body slump with disappointment. “Hey,” he echoed back. He tensed waiting for the ‘where have you been’ question?”

“Lance…” here we go, “are you okay?”

This took Lance by surprise, but he quickly settled back into his usual habit of lying to everyone around him.

“I’m fine,” he said, his frown deepening.

“Okay, let me rephrase,” said Rachel, “Why are you not okay?”

“I just said I was,” said Lance, sitting down on the couch. “Can you get off my bed now?”

“You’re not okay. You haven’t been since Jame’s party. Is it because I freaked out on you?”

“No, I don’t care about that,” said Lance, looking down at his knees.

“Then what is it?” asked Rachel, scooting closer to him.

Lance sighed and stayed silent.

“Lance, please,” said Rachel, “I’m leaving for college in September and I don’t want to leave you like this. I get it if you don’t want to talk, but I’m here for you and I love you and nothing you’ve gotten yourself involved with will change that.”

“I’m not involved in anything,” said Lance, darkly. “It’s over.”

“Okay,” said Rachel with a bob of her head. “Then maybe it’s time to get some sleep.”

“I will,” said Lance.

She stood up and he went to settle down, but Rachel grabbed his pillow. “Up in your bed I mean.”

“But I haven’t…” slept in it since he was twelve.

“It’s time to go back, Lance,” said Rachel. “At least if you’re in your bed, you’ll be less tempted to sneak out at night.”

As much as Lance hated it, there was some logic there. He picked up his husky fleece and followed Rachel upstairs.

She was right about his bedroom. It was time for him to go back. The first few nights he didn’t sleep well, but eventually he got used to it and began sleeping every night just like a normal teenager.

“Aw fuck!”

Lance woke up with a start. Did he really just hear a voice from downstairs or did he dream it?

There was a crash downstairs and Lance knew in an instant it wasn’t St. Nick. He threw off his blanket and bolted downstairs. 

The living room was empty. He went into the kitchen and went straight to the pantry. He pushed the door open and as it swung the light from the moon shining through the kitchen window illuminated legs on the ground and then -

“Keith,” gasped Lance.

He was laying propped against shelves, soaked from the spring rain, his face looked pale and he was clutching his right shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” croaked Keith, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

********

“Are you sure this is right?” asked Lance. Keith was laid out on the concrete floor of the wine cellar. Lance was on his butt had one bare foot pressed between Keith’s shoulder and neck.

“I did it once for my dad,” said Keith.

“Okay, but how long ago was that? Maybe I should just quickly pop ‘dislocated shoulder’ into the Youtube search.” Lance went to move, but Keith grabbed his ankle with his good arm.

“No. What will that do?”

“They have all sorts of tutorials on Youtube.”

“I’m giving you a tutorial. Right now.” Keith directed Lance to take hold of his wrist then to push with his foot and pull with his arms at this one particular angle.

Lance went slow, terrified he was going to hurt Keith worse, but finally he felt a pop as his shoulder went back into place.

Keith sighed with relief. “Thank you,” he said, his eyes falling closed. He looked so exhausted.

“What happened?” asked Lance.

“I was careless and I slipped,” said Keith slowly. “I fell out a window. I can’t drive with one arm so… I came here.”

“I’m glad you did,” said Lance, he moved to help Keith to sitting. When he had him up, his arm didn’t want to leave his back. He felt thirsty for him, his eyes trailing over every inch of Keith, drinking him in, noticing every change to his physique.

“I should go,” said Keith suddenly, trying to push up with his good arm to get to stand.

“No,” said Lance firmly, gripping his good shoulder to get him to stay down. “You can’t just go again. You can’t take away any chance of me apologizing to you. It’s not fair.”

Lance thought he was sorry, but he suddenly realized he was angry too. “I know I stood you up and I let you down that way, but I need to be able to make mistakes. I’m not perfect, Keith. I know I hurt you, but you can’t shut me out forever because of it.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing back fresh pain. He thought of this often, how he’d explain his absence to Lance if he ever saw him again. “I know all that,” he said, unable to open his eyes and look at Lance as he spoke, “but it hurt me so much and I didn’t like how badly it crushed me. How much power you had over me so I… I tried to take that power back by giving you up.”

“That’s not fair…” The crack in Lance’s voice was enough for Keith to look at him. To see the tears running down his cheeks. “I only went because everyone begged me to go,” said Lance, speaking rapidly, “I thought I’d be home in time to meet you, but then I couldn’t get Rachel to leave and I missed you, but I wasn’t trying to stand you up. You have to believe -”

“Lance, I went to the party!” said Keith, raising his voice, the emotion in it startling even.

“Wait…”

“I got to your place early and you weren’t home so I figured you’d gone to Griffin’s so I drove over there and it was stupid for me to go. I know.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” muttered Lance, “I invited you. I wanted you to come.”

“But I just stood outside,” said Keith, tucking his knees to his chest, “peering in the window like a creep because I wanted to see.”

“Okay, real quick,” said Lance, interrupting, “Can I explain to you the rules behind Spin the Bottle?”

Keith looked at him, confused by this. “I wanted to see what you looked like with other people,” continued Keith. He had that image in his head now of Lance surrounded by others, everyone looking his way like he was the center of the universe because he was, wasn’t he? “I wanted to see what your other world looked like,” said Keith, quietly. “But what I accidentally realized was… that it was your real world and I’m just…” Keith couldn’t even finish because he was starting to cry.

Then suddenly Lance was wrapped around him, face tucked into the crook of his neck. “Don’t ever say that, Keith! You’re my real world! You are!”

Keith’s heart was filling and breaking at the same time. He wanted Lance so badly even if part of him kept telling him Lance was better off without him. But with Lance here, speaking to him this way… how was he supposed to resist?

Keith wrapped his good arm around Lance’s back and kissed the top of his head, inhaling the scent of him. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” said Lance, coming out as something that was both a sob and laugh. “But you have to know, if you ghost me again, I’m breaking my promise and I’m gonna come looking for you. You can’t just leave my life like that.” As Lance spoke his lips brushed against Keith’s neck.

Keith bit down on his own lip. This was exactly the power Lance had that terrified him. He thought about Lance constantly. No touch was ever enough for him. At the museum he even convinced himself Lance might want to kiss him. It was too much… but also, Keith could never give this up. “Okay,” said Keith because he was weak. “I won’t leave again.”

“You’re freezing,” said Lance, suddenly pulling back. “C’mon.”

He led Keith back up to the main floor then right to the bottom of the stairs.

“I can’t go up there,” said Keith, peering up at the stairwell to the second floor.

“Yes, you can,” said Lance, holding Keith’s good hand and giving it a tug.

So Keith went with him, looking up at Lance’s back as they ascended.

He’d been thinking about his dad a lot lately. He’d always thought of him as someone completely alone, but then… he’d had Keith and before that his mom. Was it possible that his dad hadn’t ever really been alone? Was Keith more isolated than he ever was? Would he have wanted this for him? Or if he’d known he was going to die, would he have wanted Keith to walk to civilization and… make a friend.

Lance was shakey with an overdose of emotions. He was so happy to see Keith and glad they made up, but he was frightened because he knew his own feelings now and that changed every second he spent with him. Every look, every touch made significant by the swelling of admiration and attraction inside. Most importantly, he was concerned for Keith and his injury. That took precedent really, taking care of him, but he was very much aware of his own sudden awkwardness.

They snuck into his room and shut the door. Lance pulled out clean sweats and a t-shirt for Keith. He was able to change his bottoms by himself, but needed Lance’s help with the t-shirt so he didn’t pop out his shoulder again. This meant pulling a wet t-shirt off his chest and wow… okay, Lance had never seen Keith without a shirt on.

He gulped as he helped pull the dry shirt over Keith’s head. Pulling cotton down over surprising defined abs. But then that made sense, right? Keith was no stranger to hard labour.

“Thanks,” said Keith, when the shirt was on, looking away just as awkwardly as Lance. Had he been obviously checking him out? Was he making Keith uncomfortable?

Lance cleared his throat and turned to the bed. He pulled back the bedding then gestured for Keith to lay down.

This felt strange. Lance invited him to lie down in his bed, but Keith was tired and sore and still very cold. The idea of trying to drive his ATV one handed back to his shack seemed impossible. The idea of his couch waiting for him felt so unappealing.

Keith climbed into the bed, laying carefully on his back. He half expected to be tucked in, but then Lance climbed in right after him, bringing all his body heat to wrap around Keith’s uninjured side.

Lance was so warm. Always so warm. 

And Keith wasn’t brave. He could never jump. All he could do was… fall.

Keith’s body felt so chilled. Lance wanted to warm him back up so he hiked his knee up to wrap himself across Keith’s legs with his arm around his chest.

This was dangerous, he knew. There were ways he wanted to touch Keith that were outside the realm of friendship. They made his head fog and his heart race, but he knew better than to cross that line.

Unless…

Unless he just slipped.

Keith’s good arm was underneath Lance so he used it to pull him tighter against him. The odds were against Lance feeling the same as him, but still. Keith wanted to pull him in closer, wanted to pull him into his chest and hold him there in his heart.

Keith holding him tighter was doing funny things to Lance’s heart. More and more he felt his restraint slipping away.

‘You should tell him,’ whispered logic. ‘Tell him how you feel.’

But the words got stuck in his throat. The fear of Keith rejecting him silencing his voice. 

Embarrassed and lost, Lance tucked his head into the crook of Keith’s neck, back to his spot he’d cuddled against many times.

Lance’s breath was warm against Keith’s neck and he was having to bite his lip again to endure this. Even that little bit of air escaping Lance’s mouth sent tingles down Keith’s spin. He was hopeless. He was falling…

He was right here, wasn’t he? Lance could just press his lips so lightly against Keith’s neck. It was just an idea. Just a hormone fueled thought until… it wasn’t.

Lance slipped. He planted that kiss against Keith’s neck. Fear overtaking him the moment his lips pressed to flesh.

But then...

Keith hummed. His whole body moving in reaction. Not to retreat, but to press even closer against Lance.

Lance was addicted now. Addicted to the power this light touch had had over Keith’s body so he pressed his lips to his neck again, this time not so light. This time giving his cool neck a gentle suck.

Then Keith was moving and Lance felt another spike of fear, but Keith was rolling towards him, not away. Then they were face to face, hot breath shared between them. Knees hooking together, entangling their legs.

Lance searched Keith’s eyes for answers. They were so beautiful. Keith was so beautiful and he wanted him so badly. Wanted to show him so badly all of what he was to Lance. His hand slid behind his neck at the same Keith dipped forward, pressing his lips so gently against Lance’s own then pulling right back.

Lance had to close his eyes because his heart wanted to burst from his chest and he had to focus to keep this joy containted. He applied just a bit of pressure with his hand to the back of Keith’s neck and Keith dipped in again, pressing his lips to Lance’s one more.

Lance captured him this time, sucking that bottom lip in. He was trembling. Or was that Keith? He didn’t know. 

They pulled back together then moved in again. Lips finding each other, dragging across each other. Lips soft, breath warm, tongues wet. They were finding their rhythm, finding their way.

‘This is what a first kiss should be,’ thought Lance. Nothing compared to sharing a kiss with the one person in the world he wanted.

It was more than just kissing because there was press of each other and body heat and fingertips sliding up Keith’s back. He had no idea it could feel like this. Never thought this would be possible.

“I didn’t think you -” began Keith, but Lance silenced him with a kiss.

“Of course I do,” said Lance when he pulled back. “It’s you. How could I not?”

Keith felt so happy. He smiled while he kissed Lance. He was warm again. Finally. So warm and it didn’t even burn.


	8. I forgot to leave, didn't I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith spends Lance's birthday with this year.

Lance woke up to his alarm and found Keith cuddled up with him in his bed. That was the best wake up… for about three seconds and then he realized he had a boy in his room and both his parents would already be up.

“Oh no,” said Lance, looking at Keith’s awake and worried face.

“I forgot to leave, didn’t I?”

Lance was going to have to sneak a boy out of his room. Oh my god - how did he get here?

He opened up his bedroom door and peered into the empty hall then turned back to Keith to say, “Looks like the coast is clear.”

Lance took one step into the hallway only to have Rachel’s door across the hall fly open. Lance slammed his door behind him, right in Keith’s face.

“Ah ha!” said Rachel pointing an accusing finger at Lance. “I know what you’re doing!”

“It’s not what it looks like,” said Lance, putting up his hand defensively.

“You’re trying to jump the shower line to get in ahead of me, but that is not going to happen!” she said, jabbing him with her pointer finger.

“You’re right,” said Lance with a gulp. “You caught me.”

“Back of the line, bub,” said Rachel, giving Lance a shove up against his bedroom door. Lance laughed nervously and slid the door open just enough for him to slip back through.

He turned to Keith and held up a finger to his lips. He listened until he heard the bathroom door then he took hold of Keith’s uninjured arm.

“Ow,” said Keith, pulling back.

Oops. Wrong arm. Lance then switched to the actual uninjured arm. “Sorry,” he whispered as he led Keith out of his bedroom. They tiptoed down the stairs, pausing at the bottom, out of sight of the kitchen.

Lance could hear his parents speaking in Spanish in there. His mother was complaining that someone had dragged mud into the house. Lance waved for Keith to follow and they scurried through the living room to the front door. He managed to get his door open without his parents being alerted to the sound. 

On the porch, Lance gave Keith a quick kiss then attempted to go back inside, but Keith, grabbed his arm. “Lance,” he whispered.

“What?”

“My bag and my jacket are in the cellar.” Right… where he took it off so Lance could pop his shoulder back into place.

“Crap,” said Lance. “Okay, as soon as my parents are out of the house I can slip down and get them. I’ll stash them where you usually park if you can come back later…” Lance’s brain was racing. “Except you’ll be cold now…”

Lance reached in and grabbed one of his jackets off the hook by the door. An olive green canvas jacket with a hood.

“Here,” said Lance.

“You sure?” asked Keith. 

“Yeah,” said Lance, watching Keith swing it over his shoulders. It looked better on him like most of the clothes Lance had given him. “Now go.”

“See you Saturday?” asked Keith.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” said Lance, a dopey smile on his face. He slipped back inside ready to full on freak out with joy over having made out with Keith, but came face to face with his mother.

“Mijo, did you track mud into the house last night?”

“Yes,” said Lance then he launched into a story about hearing a wounded animal outside, but when he walked outside in his boots he discovered it was bat hitting against the door and then it flew into the house and he chased it all around and if they heard any weird noises last night - that’s why!

His parents really trusted Lance and in some ways that made him feel guilty for lying and deceiving them… on the other hand it made it super easy to have a secret boyfriend.

***********

“So things are finally going good with the boy, huh?” asked Pidge out of nowhere on the school bus.

“W-what do you mean?” stuttered Lance. He had been deep in a daydream about Keith.

“You’ve been happy for weeks,” said Hunk. “Are we right to assume you’re in love?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Lance.

“Things are… good,” said Lance, not really being able to hide his smile.

“I am dying for details,” said Hunk. “You gotta spill.”

“Yeah, man,” said Pidge. “Who is this guy?”

“You don’t know him. He doesn’t go to this school,” said Lance, quickly.

“You’ve mentioned,” said Pidge with an eyeroll.

“Is there something about him you need to keep secret?” asked Hunk, looking unsettled. Lance got nervous. Was he seriously going to guess? “Is he… much older?”

“What? No,” said Lance, relaxing. “He’s seventeen.”

“Phew,” said Hunk.

“Alright, that’s one detail,” said Pidge. “Can you tell us anything else? What’s his name?”

Lance stared at them then looked down at his knees. 

“It’s okay, Lance, we understand,” said Hunk. Lance looked up at his friend to see his face full of sympathy. “Dating another guy in his county, it makes sense you’d want to keep it quiet for fear of being bullied or worse. You don’t have to be out, if you’re not comfortable.”

“His name is Keith,” said Lance, quietly. What could those two figure out from the name anyway? No one knew the Hermit’s name or that he had a son. This much should be safe to tell.

“Oh, I like that name,” said Hunk, “It’s very -”

“Gay,” said Pidge, cutting in. “So’s the name Lance for the record.”

“I hope we can meet him one day,” said Hunk. “When you’re ready.”

“Yeah…,” said Lance. “When I’m ready.”

************

School ended for the summer which was awesome because it meant Lance didn’t have to worry about being a good student or getting proper sleep during the week so him and Keith could spend most nights together. 

A lot of nights this meant making out in Lance’s bed then falling asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms, but sometimes they did manage to venture out of the house.

They revisited some of their old haunts (the places they went on dates back when neither of them was prepared to admit they were dating) which Keith ended up calling The Tour of Places I Wanted to Kiss You But Didn’t.

One night Lance decided to bring Keith someplace new and brought him to the flea market where he worked for his parents during the summer (usually for spending money, but this summer was going to be paying his parents back for that illegal U-turn ticket.) Every stall was packed up for the night, but Lance took Keith around anyway and described what was there during the day. 

“This is Hunk’s family stall,” said Lance, “where they sell their vegetables and across from that is Pidge’s family where they sell their plants and flowers. Now my family is over here…”

The other side of the parking-lot-turned-marketplace-during-the-warm-weather was the outdoor flea market which was Lance’s favourite place to shop. He loved scouring the place for gifts for Keith so naturally he wanted to show him every single stall or at least describe to him what they looked like when they weren’t locked.

“Oh, and this one here,” said Lance, “Is empty right now.”

“I can see that,” said Keith because it was just a table with a handwritten sign that read ‘Available.’

“But look,” said Lance, dragging Keith in front of the table and turning him to face outwards. “It looks across the parking lot at my family’s booth where normally you’d see my gorgeous face.”

“Think I know what scared off the last tenant,” said Keith with a smirk.

“Hey now,” said Lance, bristling from the insult. He recovered quickly. “Okay, but picture this… You -”

“Me?”

“Yes, you with your own stall selling all your wood carvings and having the perfect view of me.”

Lance did a dramatic fling of his arm to direct Keith’s attention to view of his own family’s stall. He expected some kind of reaction or at least sarcasm, but Keith stayed silent. When he turned to look back at Keith he saw he was leaning back against the table, his head dropped to look at the ground.

“Okay well…. You don’t have to look at me,” said Lance, softly.

“Is that what you’re expecting?” asked Keith, his voice suddenly croaky like it used to be when they wouldn’t talk for weeks on end. “What you want our future to look like?”

“What do you…?”

“Is this a condition for us? To stay together?” Lance noticed how the arm Keith had against the table trembled as he spoke. “Because I can’t just… be this person and if you’re expecting me to...”

“Hey,” said Lance, stepping right up to Keith and rubbing his shoulders. “No, no, no. I was just daydreaming.”

“But what are we going to do?” asked Keith, still looking at the ground. “I’m not going to do this and you’re not going to move out to the Bad Lands with me. I wouldn’t let you even if you tried. So how will we still -?”

“Hey,” said Lance, wrapping his arms around Keith. “It doesn’t matter where either of us live, okay? We’ve kept up seeing each other for almost five years now. That’s not going to change anytime soon. Or ever if we don’t want it to.” He pulled Keith tight against his chest.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” said Lance. “Every time I think about how we met and what we’ve been through… I feel like we were destined for each other.”

Keith finally looked up at Lance, no longer ashamed of his tear stained face. Lance wiped away those tears with his thumbs, admiring the sparkle of his boyfriend’s eyes. He kissed him and Keith held him tight and kissed him back. 

It was them. Lance knew they’d be okay.

***********

Keith woke Lance up when he slipped into his bed. “Happy birthday,” he whispered, kissing Lance in greeting.

“That’s tomorrow,” argued Lance with a yawn.

“It’s after midnight,” said Keith.

“Then happy birthday to me,” said Lance cuddling himself close against his boyfriend, twisting up their legs so there wasn’t an inch of space between them.

“I have a present for you,” said Keith, twisting to get back up.

“No, no, no,” whimpered Lance, grabbing hold tight of him and not letting him move.

“You have to let me get it,” chuckled Keith.

“Later,” said Lance, not wanting to let go of Keith now that he had him. He kissed him and this soon turned to making out. They were good at it now. It was hard to stop once they started. When Keith pulled back a little to take a proper breath, Lance’s mouth moved quicker than his brain. “You know I love you, right?” His cheeks heated up.

“You sure?” asked Keith, his tone teasing. “You have a lot of people to choose from.”

“Of course I love you,” said Lance. “Do you love me?”

“Who else would I love?” chuckled Keith, his tone still teasing.

“Maybe you wouldn’t if you knew other people,” said Lance, somehow making himself feel a bit sad. “Maybe you’d pick someone else.”

“Hey,” said Keith, cupping Lance’s cheek with his hand. “I’d pick you first out of anyone.”

This touched Lance so deeply. He kissed Keith over and over, feeling so grateful for him.

Keith rolled Lance to his back then propped himself on his chest, looking down at him. “Lance, I love you,” he said, saying it properly this time.

Lance had to shut his eyes.

“What?” asked Keith.

“I’m just so happy,” confessed Lance. “I don’t think I could be happier than this.”

Keith pecked him on the lips then said, “I’ll accept that challenge.” He moved down to kiss his neck, not stopping there but working his way lower…

“Keith…,” moaned Lance. 

Officially the best birthday of his life.

************

Lance woke up to a knock on his bedroom door. “¡Feliz cumpleaños, mijo!” called out his mom. “Come down for breakfast!”

“Uh, I’ll be right down…,” said Lance, staring directly at Keith’s wide eyes. He listened for his mom heading back down the stairs.

“Why didn’t we set an alarm?” groaned Keith, burying himself down into the covers.

He was so cute in the morning. Of course Lance had self-sabotaged so he could get more of Keith on his birthday.

“Can you just stay?” asked Lance. “Hide in my bed and I’ll come visit you when I can?”

“Tempting,” said Keith, stretching out, “But probably not worth the risk.”

Lance sighed. “I hate that you’re right.”

Keith got changed and Lance got dressed, both of them choosing clothes from Lance’s wardrobe because hey, it was all fair game at this point. Anything Keith took, Lance would get back at some point though his mom had been complaining that he was producing twice the laundry lately.

“Let’s move,” said Lance when they were both ready. He poked his head out in the hall. Getting Keith out was much riskier with Veronica and Marco home for the summer. It meant avoiding three siblings instead of just one. Lance saw no one so he waved Keith forward. He came creeping out of the bedroom, backpack slung over his shoulder. 

Their footsteps were soft, but quick on stairs. They made it to the living room. Got through it, their noise covered by music playing and plates clinking in the kitchen as Lance’s parents prepped breakfast.

They were home free. Just had to open up the door and…

“Oh my god,” said Rachel. She was standing just outside the door in her running gear. Both Keith and Lance froze. Rachel pulled out her headphones and with a huge grin on her face said, “You’re sneaking a boy out!”

“Shshshshhhh,” shushed Lance, pushing Rachel backwards so there was room outside the door to yank Keith through then slam it shut.

“I knew it!” said Rachel, excitedly bouncing on her toes. “I knew you had a secret boyfriend!”

“Talk quieter, Rachel. Please!” begged Lance.

“I mean, I didn’t know exactly, but I knew you were gay and that you sneak out sometimes and that you have a drawing of a boy who looks exactly like this under your bed and that you’ve been really happy lately and now it all makes sense! Yes! Nailed it! Genius sister!”

“You’re very smart, Rach,” said Lance, sarcastically, “Now can you move so I can get him out of here? Mom and dad can not know about this!”

“Of course they can’t!” agreed Rachel then she looked at Keith and said, “Let’s move!”

The three of them started down the porch steps, but just then a car pulled up in the driveway.

“Shit, Luis and Lisa are here,” swore Lance.

“Back in the house,” ordered Rachel, spinning around and waving them both back. Lance and Keith turned around and slipped back into the house. Rachel closed and locked the door behind them. “That was close…”

“Hey, what’s going on?” asked Veronica, coming down the stairs. Marco was right behind her. Both their eyes immediately fell on Keith.

“This was a stupid move,” whispered Rachel.

“Then why did you make us come back inside?” Lance whispered back. Poor Keith looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Heeeeeey! Happy birthday,” said Lisa, throwing the door open.

“Happy birthday, Lance!” said Luis then both of them looked at Keith.

“I can explain!” said Lance, bristling.

“Lance invited his boyfriend over for breakfast,” said Rachel quickly, pointing directly at Keith.

“That’s great,” said Lisa, cheerily.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” said Veronica, coming the rest of the way down the stairs.

“Is that why you’ve been singing in the shower lately?” asked Marco.

“Hey!” snapped Lance, blushing.

“I’m Veronica and this is Marco.”

“Hey,” said Marco with a wave.

“And I’m Lisa, Luis’s wife,” said Lisa, moving in on Keith. He shrunk back, hands gripping his backpack strap. “I know it’s a big family and a lot of people to meet at once, but you can just stick with me, okay?”

“Stop crowding him,” said Lance, moving protectively in front of Keith.

“Oh, possessive boyfriend mode activated,” quipped Veronica, causing all the newcomers to laugh.

“No wonder we haven’t met him yet,” said Luis, “You’re really determined to keep him to yourself.”

“What’s all the noise?” asked Lance’s dad, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Lance brought his boyfriend over for breakfast,” said Veronica, gesturing to Keith who was kinda hiding behind Lance at this point.

“Oh hello,” said Lance’s dad, putting a smile on his face.

“What a nice surprise,” said Lance’s mom, coming up beside his dad and clapping her hands in delight.

“Mijo, won’t you introduce us?”

“Uh, yeah…,” said Lance. “This is my mom and Pop-pop and this is Rachel, Veronica, Marco, Luis, and Lisa.”

“And his name?” asked his mom. Lance felt everyone's attention on the two of them. 

“Everyone, this is Keith,” said Lance, resigned.

Everyone started speaking to Keith at once. He’d never had more than one person speak to him at once. Never been in the same room as more than one person so this was completely overwhelming.

“Everybody chill!” snapped Lance. “You’re all super embarrassing!”

“Yes, let’s give Keith some space,” suggested Lance’s dad. “Everyone come into the dining room.”

“Oh, I’ll just set another place,” said his mom.

“We’ll be right there,” called out Lance as his family filtered towards the other room.

Lance backed Keith as far to the other side of the living room as possible. “I am so, so, so, so sorry,” said Lance, rubbing Keith’s shoulders. This helped him calm down a bit. “Do you wanna make a run for it?”

“Won’t that make them more suspicious?” His voice sounded croaky like he hadn’t used it in days for some reason.

“I can cover for you,” said Lance. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Keith’s heart was racing. He was looking between the doorway to the dining room and the front door. He knew Lance was giving him an out, but he could tell by Lance’s up turned brows and pressed lips that he was conflicted too. 

Lance had asked him to meet people in the past…

It was just so much at one time and it meant going against everything his dad had taught him.

“It’s okay,” said Lance, pulling Keith against him. “You can go if you need to.”

Keith tucked himself against Lance, the comfort and safety of his arms keeping him there. Never in his life had he wanted to be more than he already was.

“Hey! Stop making out and get in here,” said Rachel. They turned to see her standing in the doorway. “Food is getting cold.”

Keith had trouble finding the nerve to look where he was going, but he did head in the direction of the dining room. Dropping his backpack on the easy chair on the way. 

Lance immediately scooped his arm through the crook of Keith’s elbow and leaned in close. “I’ll look out for you, I promise,” he whispered.

Keith trusted him and when he really thought about it, if his dad were still alive, he’d want Lance to meet him and for his dad to meet Lance. Family was important. It’s just Lance had so much family!

Group conversations were so hard to follow. One thing Keith didn’t expect was how people kept talking over each other (or switching to Spanish every now and then.) Keith wanted to just listen and keep a low profile but people kept saying “Keith” and then he had to both figure out who was talking to him and play back in his head what was just said so he could process the question. Meanwhile everyone would look at him expectantly.

“We met at the flea market,” said Lance just as Keith finally realized the one who he thought was Lance’s sister-in-law had asked Keith how they’d met. “We both reached for the same pair of Doc Martens and when our fingers touched there was a spark of electricity. Like literally. Like an electric shock and we both said ouch -”

Lance answered every single question directed at Keith and it was kind of marveling, this relationship story he kept weaving together from his imagination. It was a nice story… Keith kinda wanted it to be true and that feeling made him sad.

One thing that was a plus was the food! Keith has never had homemade cooking before. At least not this elaborate. He remembered his dad stir frying vegetables and making simple things, but meals were made out of supplies he could steal and there was never raw meat.

The breakfast had all these dishes that Keith didn’t even know from books or movies, but they were warm and flavourful. The bonus was filling his mouth meant he was too busy to talk. Even if he could think of a single thing to say…

Keith had a forkful of something cheesy halfway to his mouth when he noticed Lance’s dad staring at Keith’s hands. Suddenly self conscious he put his fork down on his plate and tucked both his hands into his lap and looked down at them. 

That was the other most difficult thing. Keith was discovering how hard it was to make eye contact. It made him feel so exposed meeting someone’s eye. 

Without the comfort of food in his mouth Keith wished the chair he was in would swallow him up. The voices were growing fuzzier in his ears. His breath more rapid. 

Then he watched as Lance’s hand slipped into Keith’s lap and took hold of his hand with a firm squeeze. 

Keith turned his head and looked up, finally able to meet someone’s eye as he stared into Lance’s baby blues.

Everything would be okay. He was okay as long as Lance held his hand. 

“So Keith,” said the sister that had at least tried to cover for them. Rachel, right? “Did you get Lance a birthday present?”

“That’s not really your business,” said Lance, cutting in. 

“Will you stop answering for him,” said the other sister, uh… Veronica. 

“Yeah, we're not asking intrusive questions,” said The brother who isn’t married… Mark? No, Marco. 

“And I don’t think we’ve heard Keith’s voice once,” said Lance’s sister-in-law who Keith definitely couldn’t remember the name of. 

With that, everyone at the table turned their attention to Keith. 

“Well -“ began Lance, ready to keep protecting Keith. 

“I haven’t given it to him yet,” said Keith. 

He must’ve spoken too quietly because he watched everyone at the table lean a bit closer. Lance blinked at Keith like he didn’t know he could speak. 

Keith cleared his throat. “I haven’t given his present to him yet,” he said, louder this time. “It’s in my bag.”

“What is it?” asked Rachel. Which was a good, normal response and helped Keith feel less weird.

“I - I can get it,” said Keith, looking to Lance’s mom, unsure if it was okay to leave a table during the meal. 

She smiled and made a gesture implying he could get up. Keith stood, feeling the eerie sensation of eyes on him. Regretfully he released Lance’s hand. As he made his way out of the dining room, the conversation started up again.

The chatter could still be heard in the living room when Keith reached the easy chair where he’d dropped his backpack. As he touched his bag, he looked towards the front door. He had a clean break right now.

The sound of laughter from the dining room had his head turning back there.

“Not much of a talker, is he?” commented Veronica when Keith left the room.

“He’s the strong silent type,” said Lance.

“Of course Lance would want a relationship where he gets to do all the talking,” said Luis, making everyone at the table laugh.

“He talks plenty when all of you aren’t being so loud and annoying,” said Lance, defensively.

“Yeah, but if we weren’t here, you’d still be loud and annoying,” said Rachel, making everyone laugh again.

Keith walked back into the kitchen at that moment. Lance was somewhat surprised he came back, he was expecting Keith to make a run for it now that he had the chance. He could see how uncomfortable he was during breakfast and as much as Lance wanted Keith around, wanted him to get to know his family, he didn’t want to push him like that.

“Here,” said Keith, holding out a gift wrapped in newspaper and tied with twine. “Sorry it’s not wrapped properly.”

“No, I like it,” said Lance, smiling at Keith. He’d never wrapped a gift for Lance in wrapping paper before so it was a wonder why he was suddenly self-conscious about it. Lance was just touched to get a gift from Keith.

“It’s okay,” said Lisa, “Marco wraps his gift in recycling too.”

“It’s good for the environment!” said Marco, defensively.

“It’s cheap.”

“It’s both.”

While those two argued, Lance worked on untying the twine. Keith saw and watched him, looking anxious. Lance knew from the weight it was another wood carving, but couldn’t guess from the shape what it might be. When he had the twine undone, he carefully unfolded the paper to reveal a rectangular, flat piece of wood with the most elaborate carving Lance had seen of Keith’s yet.

His instinct was as always to run his fingers all over the carving, to drink it in as much with touch as with his eyes.

“What is it?” asked Rachel.

Lance wasn’t ready to look away yet, but the others started pressing him as well so regretfully Lance turned it around.

“Oh,” said Lance’s mom, gasping at the sight. “Is that a celtic knot?”

Keith nodded.

“Oh wow, where’d you get that?” asked Luis.

“I made it.”

There was a collection of stunned looks around the table.

“What’s a celtic knot?” asked Marco.

Lance’s mom reached out and took the carving from Lance’s hands. “It’s a closed loop with no start or finish,” she said, tracing her finger along the carved ridge that shaped the overall design. “It represents the eternity of faith or loyalty or friendship.” She looked up at Keith and Lance. “Or love.”

“Wait, this is a loop,” said Rachel, standing up so she could come around behind their mom and lean over to trace her finger along the design.

“The illusion of one thread since it’s actually wood,” said Keith in his quiet voice.

“Oh wait… is this a lion?” asked Rachel, swiping her finger around the center of the design.

Lance stood up so he could see his own present again. At first the design looked mostly random though beautiful in the graceful loops, but now he could see a deliberate shape as Rachel traced her finger over that part of the wood thread.

“Why a lion?” asked Lance, the imagery making him feel slightly unsettled for reasons he couldn’t explain. Lions sometimes came up in his dreams about Keith and he never understood his subconscious associating them with Keith (who for all intents and purposes, was a wolf lover.)

“So uh,” said Keith before clearing his throat. After he did his voice came out stronger than before. “I went to the library to do some research, hoping to come up with a gift idea. I looked up the name McClain which gave me the idea for the celtic knot, but I also found this one version of the family crest. I thought it suited Lance,” said Keith, his voice growing quieter as he shly looked down at his lap. “I’ve always thought of him as lion hearted.”

“Awww,” said Lisa.

Lance looked at Keith in awe. He… he was the lion?

Lance couldn’t resist hooking his arm around Keith’s neck and leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. Who cared if his whole family saw it?

“Awwwww,” said Lisa, more enthusiastic this time.

“I found the heart!” said Rachel. She was still tracing her way along the endless loop and was now sliding it along a loopy heart.

“That’s a sick detail,” said Marco, coming to stand beside Rachel so he could look better.

“And I found the family crest,” said Veronica, turning her phone out to show the image she’d just pulled up.

Lance hadn’t even known the McClain’s had a crest, but there it was. The lion itself was on a four sectioned shield. There was a red lion, a castle, a ship, and a hand clutching a cross.

“The cross represents honour in battle,” said Keith, quietly. “Fits with lion-hearted.”

“Let me see,” said Pop-pop, returning to the table after having left to get his reading glasses. 

Lance’s mom passed the celtic knot over to her husband who pursed his lips as he looked at it. “This is some fine work,” said Pop-pop after a long silence. “Did you say you created the design?”

“Yeah,” said Keith, shifting in his seat.

“I can’t imagine how many hours this took you.”

“I have a lot of free time,” said Keith.

“You’re very young for someone so talented.”

“I started to learn as a kid.”

“Self-taught?”

“No, my dad.”

“Tradesman?”

There was a pause before Keith finally said, “Yeah...” He was not skilled at lying…

“Virtue mine honour.” Everyone turned their attention to Veronica, who turned her phone screen around again. “Apparently that’s our family motto.”

There was a sniff and Lance looked to see his mother was crying. “Mom, what’s wrong?” he asked, thrown by this sudden emotion.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she said as Luis passed her a napkin. “I was just thinking that because my father passed when I was ten and my grandparents before him, I never got to learn about my Scotish heritage, only my Cuban side.” She reached over and took the celtic knot carving back into her hands then she turned to Keith and said, “This was a very thoughtful gift. I’m sure mijo appreciates it, but it is also very meaningful to the family. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Keith, shyly. Everyone seemed so moved and impressed with Keith’s gift. Lance felt this huge surge of pride. Not just because they liked Keith right off the bat (who wouldn’t like Keith?) but because even though it was accidental, having Keith meet his family was the right move.

“Alright,” said Lance, deciding to break the tension. “It’s my gift and I've barely looked at it.” His mom handed it over and Lance pressed it to his chest in a hug. “It’s my birthday so I get the gifts and the attention. Thank you. If anyone else cries it’ll be over how much you love me.”

This got his family laughing and joking around again and once they were talking Lance got to spend a couple minutes pouring over the gift Keith had made him, tracing his finger over the loop and finding just as promised that it never ended, but went on for an eternity.


	9. My dear, I want you here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birthday festivities continue.

Breakfast seemed to come to an end without any kind of official announcement (Keith wasn’t sure how these family meals usually concluded.) People just started standing up and picking up their plates. Keith mirrored this and did the same.

“No, no, Keith,” said Lance’s mom reaching out towards his plate in his hand. “You’re the guest. You don’t have to clear anything.”

Keith looked down at her outstretched hand and felt strangely possessive of his plate. There was still food on it since he’d stopped eating out of feeling self-conscious. In fact many of the plates still had food. He’d never left a meal unfinished before. He’d been hoping he’d get a chance to shovel the rest in his mouth. Plus the idea of someone who wasn’t him cleaning up felt foreign.

“Yeah, Keith you should get going,” said Lance, breaking into Keith’s panicked thoughts.

“Going?” repeated Lance’s dad. 

“He’s got stuff on today.”

“What’s more important than your birthday?” asked Lance’s sister-in-law.

“Stay,” insisted Lance’s dad. “We have a whole day planned for mjio. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“He really should get going,” said Lance.

“Let’s let Keith decide for himself,” said Veronica. 

“Keith, won’t you stay?” asked Lance’s mom, grasping the side of Keith’s plate now. He wasn’t sure what to do so he just nodded. “Great!”

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Lance’s wide-eyed expression.

“I have an idea,” said Rachel, loudly. “Lance, why don’t you give Keith a tour of the house, hmm? Since he’s never been here before.”

Keith caught the wink directed at Lance.

“I’ll show you around,” said Lance, a blush on his cheeks. Keith relented and gave up his plate to Lance’s mom, trying not to think of how many calories he missed out on consuming all because he got shy.

Lance took his hand and led him into the living room then up the stairs. “This is my bedroom!” said Lance loudly before shutting the door so they were once again alone.

It was over. They were alone again.

There was a tremble in Keith’s hands, his chest was tight. He’d thought now that it was just the two of them he’d relax, but instead he felt like he was in shock.

Before he knew it, Keith was horizontal on the bed. Lance had simply flopped right on top of him and brought them down at the same time. His first thought was Lance was jumping him to makeout. Keith was far from in that mood and was about to tell Lance so but Lance didn’t move, just lay on top of him and began whispering.

“I am so sorry. You did so well. Are you okay?” Repeating these like a mantra, over and over.

Lance’s weight on top of Keith was heavy, like a security blanket. It began to dawn on Keith’s nervous system that there was nowhere to go, nothing to do, but feel comforted by Lance, safe with his protection. His breathing loosened as he wrapped his arms firmly around his boyfriend, soaking in his attention and concern.

Keith swallowed hard, tears pricking at his eyes. He hadn’t even realized how hard that was until he could assess how shaken up he was. 

“Was I… did I seem normal?” asked Keith. He felt like he’d stuck out like a wild animal at the dinner table. His mind was trying to replay everything at once, making him wince at how awkward and bizarre he must’ve seemed.

“You did,” said Lance, his voice light and soothing. “And that present really knocked it out of the park. My mom might love you more than me now.”

“Lance,” hissed Keith, shaking his head, brushing his cheeks against Lance’s hair.

Weight shifted and Lance rose enough to look down at Keith. “But I love you most of all,” said Lance.

Keith felt warmed from the inside out. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be loved by Lance. To know Lance at all. They could’ve never met. Or, after Lance had caught him the first time, Keith could’ve never returned back to the McClain’s house. Keith could’ve lived out his life in pure isolation.

“What are you thinking?” asked Lance, concern pinching in his brow. Keith hadn’t even said he loved Lance back, he was so in his own head.

“Just… thinking what my life would be like if I’d never met you,” confessed Keith.

“Impossible,” said Lance, his lips curling up in a cruel grin. “There’s no possible version of events where I don’t find you and make you mine. You saw how hard I worked to catch you. If you tried anything different to avoid me, I’d just have worked harder to find you.” His grin slid down into a frown. “You would never be alone, Keith. Never.”

Keith pushed up on his arms to reach his lips to Lance’s. As soon as they met in a kiss, Lance dropped his weight back down, both their bodies flattening out, falling into their natural rhythm of kissing.

“I love you,” mumbled Keith because he realized he’d missed a chance to say it. 

Lance kissed him once more then giggled. “You must if you’re putting up with my family.”

At that very moment, Lance’s bedroom door swung wide open, banging against Lance’s dresser. 

“Rachel!” barked Lance, looking over his shoulder. “Knock much?”

“Mom says it is inappropriate for you two to be alone in your room with the door closed.”

“Seriously?” groaned Lance, rolling off Keith.

“Yeah, the party is officially over, my dudes,” snickered Rachel.

“What about your birthday?” asked Keith, innocently.

The queer look from Rachel looked a lot like the looks Lance usually gave him when he misunderstood something. 

“Anyway,” said Rachel, pushing past Keith’s comment, “she also says to get ready. We’ll be leaving in ten minutes.”

Leaving?

“Oh shit I forgot,” said Lance sitting bolt upright. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s spend the day in.”

“Plans are already made, dumbass,” said Rachel, shaking her head then she looked at Keith and said, “Don’t worry it’s nowhere fancy or exciting. We’re just going to Lance’s favourite place.”

*********

The Marketplace during the day was nothing like it had been at night. In the dark it had still and spacious, a world just for them. In the daylight it was noisy and chaotic with people moving every which way.

Keith had never imagined so many people could be in one place at the same time. Sure, he’d seen it in movies, but had assumed they’d exaggerated crowds just like they exaggerate explosions and blood. But now Keith was seeing it for himself. The largest gathering of people he could imagine. There had to be upwards of a hundred people crawling all over that market.

The most unexpected part was the noise. They were so loud all together. Just a jumble of sound making it impossible to pick up on whatever conversation Lance’s family was having near them as they walked into throngs of people (and not away from, like Keith’s instincts were telling him to.)

Worse yet, everyone was staring at Keith as they walked through the flea market. He’d never known the weight eyes could put on you until so many were looking his way that he felt like he’d be crushed. He thought of his knife in his backpack, slung over his shoulder. Wondered how long it would take to get it out if worse came to worst.

“You’re okay,” soothed Lance. Keith was walking tucked just behind him, hand gripped so tightly around his, it was starting to hurt.

“Everyone’s staring at me,” whispered Keith.

“Only because we’re two boys holding hands,” Lance whispered back.

“Right. I forgot that being gay is rare and strange.” Rather than Keith simply being strange.

“It’s not that rare.”

“One in a thousand or something.”

“No, I think it’s like one in ten.”

“What?” said Keith, so shocked he stopped walking. “Then why aren’t their more gay people in movies?”

“Right?” said Lance, tugging at Keith’s hand so he’d start walking again. “Anyway, though it isn’t that rare and it definitely shouldn’t be treated as strange, people in small towns tend to just stay in the closet and not openly date the same gender so yeah, they’re staring, not because we’re gay, but because we’re being openly gay.”

“So should we stop?” asked Keith, loosening his grip, but Lance just held his hand all the tighter.

“They can stare all they want,” added Lance. “I’m never letting go.”

Lance raised up their hands and kissed Keith on the knuckles. At this exact moment he noticed James and Allura standing at the Hat Stand together. Both had their eyes locked on Lance and Keith, eyes wide. Allura’s jaw visibly dropped as they passed by.

That was awkward, but at least now she knew why he never asked her out.

“Uncle Lance!” His attention was drawn away by his little niece and nephew barrelling towards him.

He knelt down and let the little rugrats wrap their tiny arms around his neck. He could hug back with one arm since the other was tight in Keith’s grasp. 

“Happy birthday!”

“¡feliz cumpleaños!”

“Thank you,” said Lance. They let go, but Lance kept crouched down to talk to them. 

“Why are you holding hands with that boy?” asked Silvio.

“Because it’s important for boys to hold hands and hug,” said Lance. “Also, Nadia, Silvio, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend Keith.”

The two of them followed the arm chain to look up at Keith who just looked stunned. Of course these were the first kids he’d ever met.

“Why do you have a boyfriend?” asked Nadia.

“I thought boyfriends were for girls,” agreed Silvio.

“I have one because I want one,” said Lance, directing this to Nadia then he turned to Silvio and said, “Boyfriends are also for boys.”

“Can girls have girlfriends?” asked Nadia.

“Yes, girls can have anything they want.”

“That’s good. I really don’t like boys,” said Nadia before they both ran off to greet their parents.

“Thanks for watching them,” Lisa said to Hunk’s mom.

“And for opening for us,” said Lance’s dad.

“Anytime,” said Mrs. Garrett. “They’re such good sales people. They drew attention to both our stands.”

“We’ll watch the stand with the kids,” said Luis. “If the rest of you want to shop with Lance.”

“Yeah, at the same place we spend all our time in the summer anyway,” said Rachel, elbowing Lance in the side.

“It’s his favourite place,” said his mom, giving Lance’s cheek a squeeze. 

“Ow mom!” groaned Lance, swatting her hand away. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Lance! Hey Lance!” He turned to see Hunk and Pidge waving from the Holt’s flower stand. Lance clocked the exact moment they noticed he was holding hands with Keith.

“Whoa,” mouthed Hunk. 

Pidge came scurrying around the back of the stall towards them. Keith moved in front of Lance, protectively which was odd because he’d mostly been cowering now he seemed like he thought Lance was in danger?

“Is this Keith?” they asked as they ran up.

Keith looked back at Lance wide-eyed, concerned that someone already knew his name.

“See, I told you Lance wasn’t making him up,” said Hunk, strolling up behind Pidge.

Keith’s concern morphed to distrust and Lance realized he thought he’d told Pidge and Hunk everything.

“Yes, this is my out-of-town boyfriend I’ve told you no other details about,” said Lance, yanking Keith tight to his side.

“Yeah, his caginess with the deets is exactly why I just lost a fin betting you’re fake. I’m Pidge by the way. The big guy’s Hunk.”

“Hey-o,” said Hunk. “It is so nice to meet you finally.” Hunk offered out his hand to shake.

Keith looked at it like it was covered in razor blades.

“He’s happy to meet you too,” said Lance, twisting himself behind Keith’s back then doing that couple thing where he wrapped his arms across Keith’s arms so there was no way for him to shake therefore letting him off the hook. Of course Keith wasn’t going to be able to continue to get away with not talking. “Say hi babe.”

“Hi babe,” mumbled Keith.

“Hey,” said Hunk, repurposing his held out hand into a wave while looking slightly thrown off.

Lance forced out a laugh. “He’s a bit dumb, but I love him.”

“So you’re both the dumb one in this relationship?” asked Pidge with a smirk.

“I’m not dumb,” grumbled Keith. Oh good, he was properly reacting and speaking.

“Sure you’re not, babe,” cooed Lance, giving him an extra hard squeeze. “We’re just gonna float around and shop,” Lance directed this at Hunk and Pidge. “We’ll catch up later?”

“Okay,” said Pidge. “You awkward love birds have fun.”

“Nice to meet you Keith,” said Hunk, giving them another cheerful wave as they headed back to Pidge’s family’s stand. “And happy sweet seventeen!” he yelled over his shoulder.

Keith let out a very obvious sigh of relief as they walked away.

“You doing okay?” asked Lance, quiet enough so his family nearby couldn’t hear him. “Need me to fake a stomach ache so we can go home?”

“It’s okay,” said Keith, wrapping his arms tightly across Lance’s. “It’s your birthday, I want you to do what you want to do.”

“I just wanna do you.” Lance heard his awkward wording as he said it. “I mean! Uh, I just want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” said Keith. “I’m getting used to… talking to people.”

“I could tell that by how you called Hunk ‘babe.’”

“You told me to!” snapped Keith. “Was that weird?”

“Well, for the record, you are ‘babe’ and Hunk is not.”

“Fine. I won’t call anyone anything but their names… if I can remember them.”

************

The plan was to wander so wander they did. Lance took this opportunity to show Keith everything he’d described to him at night when the market was empty, but this time when it was open. He did this quietly enough so his family didn’t overhear him since, according to his own awesome made up story, he and Keith had first met here.

Lisa and Luis manned the family stall while the rest were free to shop. Eventually his other siblings wandered away, but Lance’s parents stuck with him and Keith. When Lance tried to give them his best ‘annoyed teenager’ stare to get them to back off, his dad reminded him that today they were treating him so anything they wanted to buy, just ask.

Considering Lance was completely broke from paying them back in installments for his illegal U-turn ticket, he wasn’t about to pass up free stuff. Especially since they implied they’d buy Keith stuff too.

“I want this for Keith,” said Lance, pointing at a pair of raybans. “Father, pay the man whatever he wants.”

“Stop, I don’t need those,” said Keith. The elderly gentleman at the stall, paused while reaching for the sunglasses.

“It’s bright out today,” then he added in a lower voice, “And you’re not used to being out during the day. Like a vampire.”

“I’ll squint.”

“You can’t defeat the sun, Keith.”

While they were arguing Lance’s dad had bought the sunglasses. That was just the start of Lance having his parents buy gifts for Keith.

“Pick something for yourself, mijo,” sighed his mother. “It is your birthday.”

“But I’m happiest giving things to Keith,” declared Lance with a big grin. And he was happy. Keith was out with him in public and he didn’t seem all that frazzled anymore.

“I don’t need all this stuff,” said Keith, lifting up the bag of clothes and knickknacks Lance had picked out for him.

“Good. Gifts shouldn’t be things you need anyway.” 

One thing at the market Keith truly did appreciate was the food vendors. He reacted so positively after they shared some fries and gravy that Lance went stand to stand, having his parents purchase different things for him to try.

“Oh my god,” said Keith, digging into his cup of fudge ripple ice cream. “Why is this ice cream so much better than the freezer kind?”

“Because they make it themselves here,” said Lance, scooping up a spoonful of cherry garcia. “Wanna try?”

“That’s yours,” said Keith, skeptical.

“Couples feed each other. It’s romantic.” Then he made airplane noises as he swooped the spoon down towards Keith’s mouth. Keith, unaware that Lance was feeding him like a toddler, opened up.

“Oh my god,” repeated Keith, this time dropping his head down onto his arms spread out on the picnic table. He was incredibly cute. “How is that so good?” he asked the grain of the wood.

“Made in small batches,” said Lance’s mom. “When things are made with care, you can feel the love inside them.” His parents were sitting at the same picnic table but at a respectable distance. If they were too close, Keith tended to clam up. He was mostly comfortable speaking to Lance after all these years of practice. “Oh, I love this song.”

Keith looked up towards the speakers attached to the ice cream truck parked at the edge of the market. The music had a pretty, twinkling melody to it. He wasn’t an expert in music, but it seemed to fit with his idea of what an ice cream truck should sound like.

'Bambi, Bambi  
Ba bam bam bi  
My dear, my dear, my dear  
Ba bam bam bi'

Lance’s dad twisted up his face in an expression Keith recognized from seeing on Lance’s face many times. The ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about’ face.

‘My dear, I want you here  
Bambi  
Don't get too near for there's lions, beware  
Mmm bam bam bi’

“It’s a pretty song,” said Lance’s mom, swatting her husband playfully. “And the singer, Jidenna is very handsome.”

“Not as handsome as me,” said Lance’s dad, defensively. Then he stood up. “And he certainly can’t dance like I do.” He offered out a hand to Lance’s mom.

“We are in public, Miguel,” she said, sternly.

“C’mon. Our son can’t be the only one publicly in love.”

Lance’s mom rolled her eyes (something Keith had seen Lance do in the exact same way a million times,) but took his hand and let him help her up. They kept their hands clasped as he put the other hand on her hip and she placed hers on his shoulder.

When they moved, they blew Keith away.

“They’re so good,” he whispered.

Lance twisted up his face. “No, they’re not. They’re just okay.” Lance stood up and held out his hand. “I can teach you how to really move.”

“No,” said Keith, shrinking down. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.”

“But I’ve never danced before.”

“It’s okay, I’m going to lead.”

“No, but I’ve seriously never danced before.”

There was no arguing with Lance, he insisted and Keith was forced to get up and… stand there because he didn’t know what to do.

Lance put his hand on Keith’s hip and took his hand. Keith looked at his parents and saw he was to put his hand on Lance’s shoulder. He did, his cheeks burning red from embarrassment.

Lance stepped forward and almost knocked into Keith. He stepped back and stretched out Keith’s arm.

“You need to move too,” said Lance.

“I don’t know which way!”

“It’s okay. I’m leading. Just follow me.”

Lance stepped forward so Keith stepped forward. They knocked chests.

“Follow me, not copy me!” said Lance, stepping right back. 

“Well, I don’t know!” Keith wanted to quit. This was too hard.

“Go the same direction I’m heading. I step forward, you step back. I step back, you step forward. Okay?”

“Okay,” noded Keith.

Lance stepped back and half a second later Keith figured out that meant he should step forward. 

“Good,” said Lance, stepping towards Keith. He knew this time to step backwards so Lance didn’t knock into him. They tested out this simple back and forth until Keith got thrown by Lance stepping back twice. He didn’t know that was an option!

He adapted and figured out that sometimes there would be multiple steps in one direction. He clued in just in time for Lance to walk several steps forward and this time Keith knew to start walking backwards.

‘The women among the tribe  
They will be jealous of this lullaby  
I'll drink alone in my hotel and cry  
'Cause now they know you are the love of my life’

Keith got used to staying on his toes, finding he could change direction along with Lance, even anticipating it. Since he was doing so well Lance added a slight rotation to the mix so their steps led them in circles, tracing patterns only visible from above.

‘I wish that we were forever young  
I always knew that this day would come  
The fork in the road where I cannot run  
Between love and many I'm loving one’

When they’d started, Keith had felt the eyes of the others around them boring into them. He hadn’t thought he’d get used to that attention, but suddenly they were alone. He could feel that way with Lance even when they were out in public. Lance had this way of narrowing his view with his smile, with his laugh, and with the way his hands guided him...

For a moment Keith could imagine following Lance anywhere.

********

Lance had already declared this the best birthday of his life shortly after midnight, but every moment since had only made it better. He couldn’t stop looking at Keith.

Here.

Out.

Keith looked beautiful in the daylight. He could belong here if he wanted to. Maybe this is just one magical day. Like Frosty coming to life just to laugh and play for twenty-four hours.

Okay… bad example.

But he could picture them like this. Bringing their relationship out of the dark. Coming out. Lance didn’t want to push it and say anything of the kind to Keith. He was just happy to see the smile break on his face once he got the dancing down.

It was enough. It was more than enough really. So much of Keith felt too good to be true.

“These are so cheap,” said Keith. They’d finished dancing, his parents claiming to be exhausted and heading back into the market to wait for his siblings to reemerge and claim to be bored.

There were a couple stalls they hadn’t hit yet before Lance had gotten hungry so they visited those now. Lance had his fave saved for last since it was a large stall, decorated with hanging blankets to create walls. It was full of curios and had different stuff every weekend.

They were huddled together over a crate of CDs with a hand written sign attached boosting ‘3 for $5.’

“It’s kinda a dead medium, Keith,” said Lance, “No one buys them anymore because no one owns a CD player anymore.”

“I can play CDs on the portable DVD player.”

“Which reminds me I need to break the news to you about another dead medium.”

“I know this band,” said Keith, holding up a copy of Pearl Jam’s Vitalogy album. “My dad used to listen to them. I remember liking the lead singer’s voice.”

Lance deadass stared at him. “Keith!”

“What?”

“That’s Eddie Vedder!”

“Into the Wild’s Eddie Vedder?”

“Yeah! No wonder you liked his voice!”

Keith just looked deeply confused. “Wait… do all bands have the same singer?”

“Oh Keith,” sighed Lance, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Sometimes you’re so naive it’s adorable.” Lance watched Keith’s lip upturn from the kinda neg, mostly compliment. “But this is one of those times where you should know better.”

“Lance, c’mere,” called out his dad. 

“One minute,” replied Lance without turning. “I need to pick two more CDs out so I can expand Keith’s musical horizons and then we’ll be ready to check-out.”

“Keith can keep looking, but you c’mere,” his dad repeated.

Lance finally looked to see his dad poking from around the blanket-formed corner. He could tell by the jerk of his chin that he was hoping for an aside without Keith.

Lance looked down at their grasped hands. He hadn’t so much as gone to the bathroom without Keith since they’d stepped out of the house. 

“Look at that,” said Lance, drawing Keith’s attention up from the CD bin. “They have a whole display of knives.”

“Where?” asked Keith, excitedly. 

Lance pointed to the rack beside the cash register. There were about thirty different blades. Keith moved towards it, entranced, releasing Lance’s hand in the process. Okay… didn’t know he liked knives that much.

“I’ll join you in a sec,” said Lance, slowly backing away. There was no need to be sneaky. Keith was done paying attention to him as he squatted down to inspect the knives.

“What’s up?” asked Lance, coming around the corner to find not just his dad, but his mom waiting as well. 

“Mijo,” said his mom, her voice soft, “Keith is wonderful.”

“He is,” agreed his dad, “He is a wonderful young man. We really like him.”

Lance was thrilled this pulling him aside was just to let them know they approve of his boyfriend. This meant a lot considering Keith was a boy not a girl.

“Now,” said his mom, still smiling, “who is he really?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics are from Bambi by Jidenna


	10. I wanted to be his somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good times end.

Keith only owned a few knives and they were all functional. Not like these. These were pretty. Each with different coloured handles with designs on them and shiny blades. Keith squatted down to inspect each one in turn. 

“You got ID on you?”

Keith started. He couldn’t help it. He still wasn’t used to anyone but Lance speaking to him. He looked up to see the guy behind the counter looking down at him and not in a friendly way.

“Huh?”

“Gotta be eighteen to purchase one of these.”

“Just lookin’,” mumbled Keith. The guy kept staring like he thought Keith was going to steal one if he looked away.

To be fair… he might.

There was a knife Keith liked in particular. The handle was purple and blue. He longed to pick it up just to see how it felt in his palm. It looked perfectly curved like it would fit like a dream. Unfortunately, the guy at the till was staring and Keith had no ID to show him. Even if he did legally exist enough to have the paperwork to prove it, it wouldn’t say he was eighteen.

“Fancy meeting you here,” said a different voice.

Keith stiffened. Someone was directly behind him and he hadn’t even noticed them approach. He’d been tampering down his instincts all day in order to not look alarmed in front of Lance’s family.

But that voice…

“Not surprised you’re attracted to the knives.”

*********

Lance’s blood ran cold. “What - what do you mean, who is he really? He’s… he’s my boyfriend.”

“The way you two move in public,” said his mom, expressing herself with her hands as she spoke. “It’s like you’re sheltering him.”

“And he’s looking at others like he might need to fight to protect you,” added his dad.

“We’re just - we’re nervous about people seeing us together. We don’t want to get jumped by homophobes.”

“Oh mijo,” said his mom, “You were the same in our own home and you may be nervous, but you know you’re safe with us. There’s something odd about the way you two interact.”

“We are just new and figuring things out!” Lance’s voice had lost all it’s chill. He was breaking his own rules with lying. He needed to calm down to sell the lie and then he needed to deflect. Just like he’d always done to keep Keith safe. To keep his secret. 

“Maybe we’re awkward. I dunno. I’m sorry if we’re making you uncomfortable.” No, now his voice was deeply sarcastic. He was blowing this and he could see it on his parents’ faces.

“Let us be clear, mijo,” said his dad, his own voice staying calm, “we very much like Keith and we have no objection to you being together. What we are trying to figure out is if Keith is in some kind of trouble.”

“He’s fine,” said Lance through gritted teeth, he couldn’t seem to relax enough to be of any reassurance.

His parents shared a look.

“What?” No, not ‘what!’ Change the subject! Lance was blowing this. 

“We’ve noticed certain other things...” said his dad.

************

Keith didn’t look back. If he couldn’t see his face, he couldn’t confirm who he was and maybe his problem would just disappear.

“How’s that shoulder of yours feeling? Hopefully better than your side.”

Fuck.

Keith wanted to get out of there. Wished he could just stand up and run, but that’s not how normal, daytime people act.

“Oh hey, Iverson, how’s it going?” asked the man behind the counter. He was so casual, like he didn’t know Keith’s worst nightmare was coming true.

“My day just got interesting,” he replied, his tone staying tense. “Do you happen to know if Shirogane is around today?”

“He stopped in here earlier,” replied the stall owner.

“Good. I’m just going to give him a quick call.”

Keith stayed still. Listened close. Heard the brush of the phone leaving Iverson’s pocket. Waited until he could hear that faint dial and... In one fluid movement he pocketed the knife with the purple handle, stood up, and slipped out of the stall’s opening. 

He was about six big strides out in the open when he heard, “Hey kid! Wait!”

***********

“He’s dressed in your clothes, mijo,” said his mom. Lance almost yelled, ‘because he slept over!’ but managed to keep that one to himself as his mother continued to list things on her fingers. “He barely says a word - “

“He’s shy!”

“- He doesn’t look us in the eye when he speaks to us -”

“Again, he’s shy!”

“- He eats like he doesn’t know when his next meal will be,” said his dad, “There’s dirt under his fingernails - “

“What, so you’re these amazing detectives now?” cried Lance. He’d lost it. Completely. There was this lump in his throat that wouldn’t go down, even when he swallowed and he had that awful feeling like he was going to cry if he said one more word, but still, he couldn’t shut himself up because he was so damn hurt that his parents looked at Keith and saw flaws instead of the perfect person Lance knew him as. 

“Five years I’ve been sneaking out of the house and you never caught me once, but you meet Keith and in five minutes you think you know what’s going on with him?!”

Stupid. Should’ve shut up when he had the chance.

“Wait… sneaking out of the house?” repeated his dad, eyes widening.

His mother stepped forward and placed a hand to his dad’s chest to quiet him. “What is going on with Keith, mijo? Does he have some trouble at home? It’s better you tell us. We’re adults. We can help him.”

“I am helping him!” yelled Lance, tears finally pricking at his eyes. “Like I have always helped him! He doesn’t need anyone else!”

“I am sure you have done the best you can to your abilities,” said his mom, her calm slipping just a bit. “But now we can help too. Tell us. Is someone at home hurting him?”

“Hurting him?” repeated Lance, thrown off.

“Like a parent or a caretaker,” said his mom. “Is someone abusing him?”

Lance almost laughed because it was so ridiculous and they really didn’t get it. 

“No one is taking care of him. When I found him he had nobody and I… I wanted to be his somebody. I wanted to take care of him. I wanted to do that for him and I did. I love him! He needs somebody who loves him!”

“He has nobody?” said his mom, her tone confused.

“Back up,” said his dad, shaking his head. “What do you mean you ‘found him?’”

“This is not sounding safe,” said his mom, getting visibly agitated.

“You don’t get to say he’s not safe!” yelled Lance. “Not after you spent my whole childhood reassuring me I was in no danger when he was breaking into our house all the time!”

“Wha -?” was the only noise his dad made as he narrowed his eyes in confusion.

It was his mother whose eyes sprang open in surprise. She turned to her husband and knocked the back of her hand against his chest. “Keith is the Hermit.”

Lance’s mouth went dry.

He’d fucked up.

He’d fucked up so bad.

“But he can’t be,” began his dad. “It’s been twenty-five -”

“We thought the kid died, but it was the father who died,” she said, urgently. “Keith is his kid.”

“Coño,” swore his dad. 

Lance’s face confirmed this realization. He was suddenly an open book and he felt so angry with himself for betraying Keith. And all just because he got flustered!

“Where is he?” asked his dad. 

This question hit Lance like a bucket of ice water. He hadn’t checked on him once. His hand twitched, feeling empty like he’d abandoned Keith. Quickly, he turned and looked around the corner to where he’d left him by the knives.

Gone. No, this can’t be happening.

“Where’d he go?” asked his mom, striding forward in front of Lance.

“Rick,” said his dad, sharply, getting the attention of the stall owner who was on his phone. “That kid we came in with, where’d he go?”

“I don’t know,” said Rick. “Iverson came in and was talking to me so I lost track. He jacked one of my knives before he took off. I’m calling the Sheriff right now.”

“Hold on,” said Lance, his heart racing. “Iverson was here? Where’d he go?”

“He went after your friend.”

“No,” cried Lance, picking up his feet and running out of the stall.

***********

Keith didn’t know how to look casual in public and he really didn’t know how to evade someone while looking casual in public. He did know he shouldn’t run because it draws attention.

“Hey! Kid!” yelled Iverson.

Okay, maybe a little running.

He picked up his feet and jogged enough to get around a corner then he slowed down to slip into a stall. He picked up a shirt to hold up and cover his face while Iverson passed by. 

How did this happen? The one person who knew Keith’s face and he happened to be there the same day?

Was this what public was like? Everyone is just… out and gathered in one place where Keith can’t escape?

Keith put the shirt down. He couldn’t keep this up, but he couldn’t not stick out.

He needed to get out of that stall. Out of the market. Out of town. Get back to his shack.

He peeked out of the stall and tried to map his path out. Replay everywhere he’d gone in his mind and make a layout in his head so he could make a full out run for it. He’d have to tell Lance next time he saw-

Keith froze up at the thought. He couldn’t just disappear. What would Lance think?

“There you are!”

Keith turned to see Iverson coming in through the back of the stall. 

Fuck. He’d hesitated and Iverson had found him. He picked up his feet and started sprinting.

“You can’t keep running, kid!” Iverson yelled after him.

************

Lance heard yelling so that’s the direction he went in. He came around a corner, stopped, looked, turned in a three-sixty circle, but all he could see was random people.

Why were there so many people here in the market?! Why did he bring Keith to a place full of people when he’s afraid of people?!

So stupid. Lance was so fucking stupid and selfish.

He’d lost him. He’d taken him out once and lost him and Iverson was after Keith and Keith had a knife…

Red flashed behind Lance’s eyes as he remembered Iverson causing Keith to stab himself… Keith driving himself back to his shack and spending a month and half sick with an infection, scared and alone.

It wasn’t worth it.

Meeting his family wasn’t worth exposing who Keith is and putting him in danger.

Lance’s birthday wasn’t worth it… having a date with Keith wasn’t worth it… seeing Keith in the sunshine wasn’t worth it…

Not if it was the last time Lance will ever see him again.

“KEITH?” yelled Lance, turning around to keep scanning. “KEITH?!”

People turned to stare at Lance, at this loud person making a scene. He didn’t care who looked or what they thought. He needed to find Keith.

“KEITH?”

“Whoa, what’s going on?” asked Rachel, rushing up to Lance.

He ignored her and yelled again. “KEITH?”

“We lost Keith,” said their mom. Lance hadn’t even noticed his parents following him, but there they were.

“So?” said Rachel. “He’s not a toddler. He’ll be alright.”

He won’t though.

“We just need to find him,” said their dad, his tone urgent. “Text the family. Tell them all to look.”

Lance caught the startled looked on Rachel’s face before she nodded and took out her phone.

“KEITH?”

Either Keith wasn’t near enough to hear Lance or there was a reason he wasn’t answering. Lance couldn’t stay still any longer. He took off down the rows of stalls, hoping to catch a glimpse of mullet.

**************

Keith was sloppy in his attempt to escape. He kept knocking into people because they kept not moving for him. He wasn’t used to this. All these… moving targets.

He wasn’t stealthy… After five years sneaking around at night he thought he was stealthy, but no. Apparently it was the dark. Apparently it was the lack of people. Apparently it was because someone wasn’t chasing him!

“Hey!” groaned a guy as Keith ricocheted off him then knocked into a table, spilling a display of handwoven bags.

“You okay?” asked the woman behind the table.

Keith’s face must’ve conveyed that he wasn’t because her eyes widened with concern.

“Kid, just stop!” Iverson was close behind him again.

Keith didn’t stop. He took off running again.

He’s not stealthy…

He’s not brave…

He’s the type that falls instead of letting go of a blanket rope… He’s the type to trip and fall in public.

Keith hit the ground hard, gravel scraping into his palms and stinging. His ears were ringing and there was a sharp pain in his jaw.

His only solace was, because he was down, he was out of sight of Iverson. At least for now. He saw a table covered in a blanket and crawled under it. He stopped there for a second, trying to calm his erratic breath. 

Keith took stock. There was a good chance Iverson spotted him so he had to keep moving. He crawled to the other side and slipped out. He saw the school building. If he could get around back, he’d make it to the streets and be free. If he had the chance to outrun Iverson in the open, he could.

Keith ran for it, ducking down low. Using the crowd to his advantage, relying on it to keep him hidden from sight. He reached the brick building. He’d spotted it from his hiding spot, the broken latch on the gate that should’ve been locked. He opened it up, slipped around the corner of the school, and ran between the wall and the chain link fence. 

Legs pumping. Heart pounding.

Keith came out at the back of the school, certain he’d made it to freedom only to find a fenced area with trash cans. He turned his head frantically and saw an opening in the fence about twenty feet away. He started to sprint only to have a police car pull up and cover the only escape route.

No!

Keith doubled back, heading towards the path he came from, but Iverson stepped out from around the corner, blocking him. Keith panicked and turned to the fence. It was a double tall chain link, but it was the only way out right now. 

Keith hit the fence with a clink and a shake. He started climbing up, finding footing with the sneakers he’d borrowed from Lance. His shoulder ached reminding him of his recent injury.

“Aw kid, c’mon,” said Iverson, standing right below him. “Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window.” His voice was more resigned than anything. 

Keith’s foot slipped out, forcing his weight to yank against his bad arm. His shoulder gave a groan of pain. He tried to find his footing, but couldn’t get his sneakers back inside a rung.

“Just climb down before you fall,” said Iverson. Something in his tone of voice, stern but concerned, reminded Keith of his dad.

A lump rose in Keith’s throat, tears stung his eyes making it hard for him to see. It was only a fence, why was it so damn hard to climb?

His shoulder ached. His foot was still dangling free.

If he was brave, he’d let go. Accept his fate to fight or flee at the bottom. But Keith wasn’t brave. He’d never been able to let go. All he could ever do is…

Fall…

He landed hard on his feet, tipping forward to crash his front against the fence. His cheek pressed hard against the cool wire.

“It’s okay, Shiro,” said Iverson, calling out to someone else. “I’ve got this.”

While Iverson was distracted, Keith found his moment. He pulled the knife he’d hidden in his pocket and spun around, putting his back to the police car so the officer couldn’t see the weapon. 

This time he wouldn't panic. This time he wouldn't fuck up and stab himself.

Except he was never more scared than he was in that moment. 

It was Iverson’s eyes that crushed him, filled him with self-doubt. He wasn’t frightened like a man at knife point should be, he just looked… sad. 

“Please kid, I honestly want to help.”

Keith’s arm shook as he held out the knife.

He was disappointed in himself. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to be the kind of person who pulled a knife. He didn’t want to be the kind of person who hurt someone who was trying to help him. 

A sob escaped him as Keith let the knife drop. He opened up his fingers and let it go. As it clattered against the cement, Keith realized it was over and that he’d done it. For once in his life he was brave enough to let go.

“Good. You did the right thing,” said Iverson.

It didn’t feel right. Keith didn’t know what right was.

A car door shut. Keith turned to see the Sheriff strolling over toward them. Soon he would know exactly who Keith really was.

***********

Lance was coming up with nothing. He kept running into family members that were reporting the same.

“It’s like he vanished,” said Veronica.

No, not vanished. He was just good at slipping away. Lance needed to think more like Keith. He looked towards the school, focused in on the little pathway beside it closed in by the chain link fence and the gate with the… broken latch.

He spotted it and knew in an instant Keith would pick that route. All that time sneaking around at night with Keith had paid off.

Lance took off at a jog, pulling open the gate, and running into the path between the school building and the fence. He could hear a dozen footsteps pounding behind him, his family following him.

Honestly, he’d hoped to find nothing at the end of the path. Just an empty alley meaning Keith had escaped back to Lance’s farm, back to where he’d stashed his ATV so he could drive it back to his shack. Back to where he was safe to hide out another day. It was a terrible shock to come around the corner and see Sheriff Shirogane cuffing him.

“Keith!” yelled Lance, jog turning to a sprint. 

Iverson stepped out of his way when he saw him coming. Lance ran past him and slammed into Keith’s body, clutching him in a bear hug and forcing Shirogane to step back.

“I’m okay,” said Keith quietly.

“Lance… I can’t let you do that,” said Shirogane, putting a firm hand on Lance’s shoulder and attempting to pull him back. 

Lance ignored him and didn’t let go. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“McClain, do you know him?” asked Iverson.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” said Lance, using his sleeve to brush away the furious tears from his eyes. “He didn’t steal anything people weren’t willing to part with!”

Lance heard the pitter patter of feet as the rest of his family caught up to them.

“Shiro, you can’t be serious,” said Lance’s dad. “Putting a teen in handcuffs.”

“You never once tried to find and arrest the Hermit before,” said Lance’s mom. “You can’t start now!”

“Back it up here,” said Shiro, shaking his head in confusion. “I’m arresting the kid that’s been breaking into the summer camp.”

“That was over a year ago!” argued Lance.

“It was last month,” said Shiro, “Iverson caught him stealing stores and when he chased after him, he fell out a window.”

Lance looked at Keith with wide eyes. Keith in turn wouldn't look back at him. He’d never told him where he’d been when he’d fallen and dislocated his shoulder. Lance had no idea he’d gone back to the summer camp. Especially this early in the season.

“Now you’re implying this kid is the Hermit?” said Shiro.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for years,” said Iverson. “But you never listened. It’s the same kid.”

“Wait…,” said Rachel, “Keith is the Hermit?!”

Lance’s heart sank. They’d just given Iverson more on Keith.

“Your boyfriend’s the Hermit?” Lance turned around to see Pidge and Hunk had followed his family back around the school. Because of course everyone in his life was going to discover the truth at the same time in the worst scene possible!

Keith was frozen. The voices around him were barely coherent. The only thing that was registering was Lance’s shocked look, finding out Keith had raided the summer camp again even after what had happened the year before.

Through scouting he’d discovered the camp had been stocked. He’d thought maybe if he hit the place before camp started this year, Iverson wouldn’t be prepared. And if he was… at the time Keith hadn’t been speaking to Lance and as a result hadn’t cared if going there was dangerous.

He hadn’t technically lied to Lance about going to the summer camp… he just hadn’t told him. 

“We’re going to sort this all out at the station,” said the Sheriff. He opened up the back door of the police car and put a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

Keith felt numb as he was shuffled forward towards the door. Several voices rose at once, overlapping so Keith couldn’t pick out individual speech. He assumed, whatever they were saying, they were telling off Keith for lying and pretending to be someone he was not.

He was looking down at the ground so he didn’t see Lance coming until he was already on him, hugging him from the side and stopping him from moving.

“I’m sorry, Keith. I’m sorry,” whispered Lance.

He… he was sorry? But Keith had lied...

“Lance, I told you already you can’t do that,” said the Sheriff. “Step back.”

“You’ll have to arrest me too!” said Lance, boldly.

“That is not going to happen,” said the Sheriff, prying the two of them apart.

“He can’t be without me,” said Lance, voice breaking. “Look at him. He’s terrified.”

The Sheriff sighed and ignored Lance. “Watch your head,” he warned as he guided Keith into the backseat. He shut the door and Keith was cut off from Lance.

“Let Lance go with him!” yelled Rachel.

“No one’s ever cared about the Hermit taking things before,” said Lisa. “You should care even less now that you know he’s a teenager.”

“Iverson’s got a vendetta against him,” said Marco. “It’s not fair!”

Lance was shocked. Shocked his family were all backing him up. Moreso that they were defending Keith.

“Folks, I hear you,” said Shiro, “and I will take everyone’s statements later. Right now I am following procedure.”

“Fine,” said Lance, “Arrest me too.” He put out his hands in front of him, ready to be cuffed.

“Lance…,” groaned Shiro.

“I’ve been sneaking around at night with him. I broke into the theatre with him. I broke into Augdenville Fine Arts Museum. Arrest me too.”

“Wait, seriously?” said Hunk.

“Whoa. Respect,” said Pidge.

Shiro just ignored Lance’s confession to a crime and walked around the car. Lance followed behind him, reared back then spit on Shiro’s back.

There was a collective gasp from behind him. 

“Dude, you just spit on an officer of the law,” said Pidge, in awe.

Shiro turned back to Lance. He was hoping he’d look mad so he’d arrest him, but instead he just looked sympathetic.

“I’m not arresting you, Lance. I told you that.” Then he swung open the driver’s side door and climbed inside.

“Keith,” mumbled Lance. He ran around the back of the car so he could press his hands to Keith’s window. The car started up as he knocked. Keith looked up at him with worried eyes just as the car began to pull away.

“Keith!” yelled Lance, running after the car. He didn’t give up on chasing it until the end of the alley when the police car turned onto the street and accelerated. Lance’s legs couldn’t keep up.

His heart hurt. His whole chest felt like it had caved in. He felt numb to his surroundings. Without much thought he doubled back, dragged his feet back to where he’d left his family and friends.

Iverson was gone. That was smart. Lance was ready to tear into him. Instead he found all his loved ones on their phones. He was annoyed at first, thinking they were just back to not paying attention. At least until Lance’s mom spotted him coming back and waved at him to hurry up.

“What’s going on?” he asked as he watched her hang up from a call.

“We’re calling and texting all our neighbours,” she explained. “They need to know Keith’s been arrested.”

“Why? So they can bring more evidence against him?” asked Lance, bitterly. “Or would pitchforks be more appropriate?”

“The opposite,” said Lance’s dad, phone pressed to his ear. “No one in the county is going to stand for this. We’ll get as much pressure as we can to call for Keith’s release.”

“Really?” asked Lance, his brain waking back up to the activity in front of him. “You’re helping?”

“Of course,” said Rachel, typing furiously on her phone. “That’s our Hermit! Nobody arrests our Hermit!”

There was a spattering of agreement from Lance’s loved ones. His tight chest eased just a bit in awe of those willing to help Keith out.

“He’ll need a lawyer,” said his dad. “Do we know any?”

“One of my mom’s six degrees is a law degree,” said Pidge. “I’m texting her right now.”

“It’ll be okay,” said Lance’s mom, stepping up to him and putting a reassuring arm around his waist. “But there is something important you need to do.” 

“I’ll do anything if it helps Keith.”

“You need to tell the truth.”


	11. You'll never be alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith face's the music.

Lance walked into the police station. It was small. Just a couple desks and a door that led to the rest. Lance had to assume the holding cell was back there with Keith. He wanted to rush the door or wait until night time and plan an elaborate way to break in - think like Keith in this situation - but he knew there was only one path for him from now on.

“Lance McClain,” said the Sheriff when he saw Lance enter. “Do I need an umbrella or are you prepared to keep your saliva to yourself?”

“I want you to take my statement,” said Lance, not acknowledging the man’s attempt at humour. “Please…”

Shirogane gestured to a chair in front of one of the desks. Lance sat, his nerves ramping up to eleven.

“Alright,” said the Sheriff, settling himself down across from Lance. “What would you like to tell me?”

“Officer, er, Sheriff sir -” stuttered Lance.

“Please, you can call me Shiro. We’re a small station and we’re not too formal.”

“Shiro...” said Lance, feeling awkward with the nickname. “How is he?”

“He’s okay,” said Shiro, a look of concern surprising Lance. “He cooperated in coming here. Not talking much yet. I just got a call. He has a lawyer coming so maybe he’s waiting on her.”

“I don’t think so,” said Lance. “It’s not in his nature to… talk.”

“Well, so far from him I’ve got a first name and a last name and a date of birth. ‘Course, I haven’t been able to confirm any of that.”

“No, he doesn’t have a birth certificate,” said Lance.

“You seem to know a lot about him,” said Shiro. “Maybe you could help me fill in some of the gaps here.”

“I want to,” said Lance, looking past Shiro’s shoulder. There was a window on the opposite wall. He could see outside to the birds flying in the sky. “But… it’s not my truth to tell. I think I need to ask Keith first if it’s okay.”

“That’s not how these things work, Lance.”

“I know but this isn’t… he’s not your typical…” Lance had promised himself he wouldn’t cry and here he was, not three minutes into this conversation and he was starting to.

Shiro frowned then picked up a box of kleenex from his desk and offered the thing to Lance.

“Thanks,” said Lance, pulling out a tissue and wiping his eyes.

“He’s a dear friend of yours, isn’t he?” asked Shiro.

“He’s more than a friend. He’s -” Lance cut himself off, feeling this large rush of shame. It felt awful. He wasn’t ashamed of loving Keith, but the sudden thought of Shiro being disgusted by two boys in love transferred to his own thinking and he found he didn’t have the confidence to keep explaining.

Shiro looked at Lance while he silently wiped at his own tears. After a moment he took out his phone. He opened up a photo and turned it so Lance could see the screen.

It was Shiro with his arm around another man. Lance didn’t understand.

“That’s me and my husband,” said Shiro. Lance’s eyes widened. “You can tell me if I’m not reading this right, but I think I understand what Keith is to you.”

Lance’s breath shook as he let out a deep exhale. He felt a little bit of conviction return to him. “Look, I know I haven’t actually given you a statement or really told you anything and I don’t have a lawyer and Keith’s lawyer isn’t here yet, but you said things aren’t formal here so is it possible I could see him now before we talk?” Lance had to wipe another tear away when he was finished.

Shiro stood up and Lance was sure he was about to ask him to leave. Instead Shiro beckoned him to stand too before heading towards that one door. “I think it would be good for him if he saw you,” said Shiro.

Lance wanted to thank him, but the words weren’t coming out. He was too busy watching that door open, following Shiro down a hall until they made it to the small holding cell at the back of the building where Keith was huddled on a bench in the corner.

“Lance,” croaked Keith as soon as he spotted him, unfolding himself from his sitting position. He rushed to the bars at the same time Lance kicked up his feet and rushed there too.

“Keith,” sniffed Lance. They both pressed themselves as close as they could to the bars and pushed fingers through so they could hold hands with just fingers.

“I’m sorry,” said Lance, “I didn’t even think this could happen today. I’m so, so sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” said Keith, his voice was quiet. Lance didn't realize why until he saw him glance over Lance’s shoulder back at Shiro. Lance looked back too.

“I’ll give you two a few minutes,” said Shiro, turning back. This guy was honestly the nicest officer of the law ever. Lance completely forgave him for that U-Turn ticket he’d given him (that he deserved.)

When the door was shut, Lance turned to Keith and asked, “What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” repeated Keith, confused.

“Have you found any weaknesses in the cell or do you need me to case the exterior?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Keith, shaking his head in confusion.

“I’m talking about your escape plan,” said Lance. “I figure we wait until midnight then I pull the ATV up in the alley while you climb out that window,” he nodded to the tiny window in the top corner of the cell. "Then we drive to your shack and gather supplies. They’ll probably comb the Bad Lands looking for you so we’ll have to move on, but I’ve been thinking about this -”

“Lance,” said Keith.

“- I can’t really see myself in the desert, but what about a deserted island instead, huh?”

“Lance.”

“Sand for you, water for me. They’ll never find us and -”

“Lance!” said Keith, firmly.

“What?”

“We’re not running away together.”

“Yes,” said Lance, “yes, we are.”

“No,” said Keith, shaking his head.

“It’s the only way we can be together right now. We’ll find a place just for us and -”

“Lance, you need people,” said Keith firm, but close to tears.

“No, I don’t,” said Lance, his voice breaking, “I just need you.” He tipped his head forward against the bars, tears slipping freely from his eyes. “I need you.”

Keith’s voice was gentle. “I’ve seen you with people, with your family. You need them.”

“But I… I can’t go on without you. I can’t accept you in a cage like this.”

“I’ll be okay,” said Keith and Lance shook his head furiously at this. “I need to face what I’ve done.”

“You did what you had to to survive,” said Lance, firmly.

“I was still breaking the law,” said Keith, “and I feel terrible about that and maybe the only way to feel better is to be punished for it.” Lance lifted his head to see Keith crying too.

“You don’t deserve it though. You are the single best person I have ever met. I don’t know who I am without you.”

“You’re Lance,” said Keith, smiling through the tears. “You’re the person who forced his friendship on me when I was completely alone. You gave me connection, family… a life.”

“You’ll never be alone again,” promised Lance. “Even if they put you in jail, I’m going to visit you every chance and wait for you.”

“I love you, Lance,” said Keith, pressing his face right to the space between the bars.

“I love you too, Keith,” said Lance, doing the same. He couldn’t stand these bars between them, but he’d respect Keith’s decision. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” whispered Keith.

Lance heard the door open up again. “Keith, your lawyer is here.”

“Lawyer?” he whispered, looking at Lance with confusion.

“First off, why is my client behind bars?” asked Colleen, walking down the hall towards them. “He is a minor. He should be transferred to Juvenile Detention.”

“Thing is, Ms. Holt -” began Shiro.

“Dr. Holt,” corrected Colleen.

“Yes, Dr. Holt, the thing is I have not been able to verify his age. By his own accounts he’ll be eighteen in October, in which case Juvie makes sense, but I would have to transfer him to the city.”

Keith and Lance looked at each other. 

Take Keith away?

Colleen took one look at their silent exchange and then turned back to Shiro. “Upon further deliberation, it would only cause my client further trauma to transport him. As long as he remains the only person in this cell, I insist he stays here.”

Shiro nodded. “I don’t arrest a lot of folks so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

**************

“I say we egg his house.”

“Who’s house?” asked Lance. He hadn’t been listening up to this point.

“Iverson’s house!” said Rachel. 

The two of them were sitting out on the porch. Lance was staring off into the distance. He did this a lot lately. Tune out and stare. He couldn’t help it. His mood kept swinging between worried about how Keith was doing locked up and feeling so sad because he missed him so much. 

“He’s the only one pressing charges against Keith. If it wasn’t for Iverson, he’d be free! We need to retaliate.”

“You can,” said Lance. “I have to stay here.” 

Lance was grounded and not allowed past the porch. It was his punishment for lying and sneaking out of the house for the past five years. Arguing that his parents should take some responsibility for failing to notice didn’t get him anywhere.

Supposedly there was an exception for visiting Keith in jail, but whenever he spoke to Shiro, he said it wasn’t a good time. At least he got to talk to Keith on the phone once per day. Keith never said too much, but that was okay because Lance could talk for the both of them. 

Other than that Colleen dropped by daily to give the family updates on what was happening with Keith’s legal case. After, she’d take time to talk to Lance about what she’d observed in Keith.

She noted that Keith doesn’t tell her much even when she asks questions, but he’d told Lance he was allowed to say anything so Lance was filling in the blanks.

When she’d dropped by earlier he’d asked if Keith was okay because he couldn’t gage that well enough over the phone.

“He’s hanging in there,” was all Colleen had said to reassure him.

That wasn’t the same as okay.

“She’ll get him out,” said Rachel, seeming to understand what Lance was thinking about. He’d subconsciously pulled out his phone. He still didn’t have a photo of Keith, but he’d taken a photo of the drawing he’d made him. He spent a lot of time looking at it, letting his heart fill up and run over until he could finally cry until he felt a bit better.

“I hope so,” said Lance. “He’s not meant for a cage. He’s used to the wild.”

**************

Keith was no stranger to isolation, but this was a new kind of lonely. 

The worst he’d ever felt in his life was when his dad passed. It was before he made friends with Lance, when he felt like the only person in the world. 

The second worst was when his stab wound was infected and he was on the brink of death.

He’d never told Lance this one detail of the story. How when his fever had gripped him the worst, he’d seen his father. He’d come to kneel beside him while he was shivering on the couch. He’d spoken to him. He’d asked Keith if he was ready to go.

Keith really felt like he’d made a choice in that moment. What he’d wanted more than anything, more than seeing his dad, was to see Lance. 

To be near Lance and hear his stories and laugh with him again.

So he’d told his dad no and with a quiet smile he’d left. By morning the fever had broken. He’d chosen that. Chosen to live for Lance.

Those moments in his past, as horrific as they were, were nothing compared to the feeling of being caged in. Of being trapped in this jail cell. All his life, no matter what the quality, he’d always been free.

Sometimes when it was dark and the cell walls felt like they were closing in, Keith wondered if his dad would visit him again and ask him the same question. He wondered what he’d choose this time.

The next morning he’d cry, as he often did when no one was watching, and feel ashamed of himself for having such thoughts.

He wanted to choose Lance. He wanted to be with him. But his reality was, he likely wouldn’t get to.

It had only been five days. Keith was embarrassed by how quickly he’d fallen apart. How fast being caged had gotten to him. His brain didn’t know how to process this beyond collapsing in on itself. Lance was right about Keith. He needed the wild.

The door down the hall opened, cueing Keith to brush away his tears. Sometimes this just meant Shiro or one of the other officers was going to the bathroom. If it was Shiro, he’d come check in on Keith, even if he didn’t respond much to his attempts at chit chat.

Shiro didn’t say anything this time, just unlocked Keith’s holding cell. It wasn’t a big surprise. That usually meant Keith’s lawyer was here to ask questions Keith would do a poor job at answering. Then she’d explain things he wouldn’t understand but would and say he did.

So little of it mattered to him. He was just waiting on numbers. One number that would tell him when he’d go to the bigger prison and a second number he’d use to countdown to when he could get out. Maybe if he knew when he’d be with Lance again, even if it was years from now, it would help.

Or maybe it would make things worse…

Keith followed Shiro out into the main part of the station. He was surprised to see it wasn’t just Colleen waiting, but also a red haired man and Iverson. The sight of the latter made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Keith’s footsteps slowed and his eyes automatically shifted to ground, feeling the weight of everyone’s attention on him. Shiro’s steady hand on Keith’s shoulder urged him forward. He still flinched from any touch that wasn’t from Lance. The hand felt raw, almost painful, after five days without physical contact with anyone.

Shiro guided him into the chair that sat in front of his desk.

“We’re all just gonna have a talk,” said Shiro. “No need to be nervous.”

That didn’t reassure Keith at all. 

“Keith, this is Mr. Smythe,” said Colleen. He assumed she was referring to the red haired man, but he didn’t look up. “He’s the prosecuting lawyer.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mr. Smythe in a heavy accent. “I’ve been learning all about you. You’re quite an interesting person.”

Keith didn’t say anything. He didn’t think that was a compliment.

“Keith, Mr. Iverson was hoping to speak to you himself,” said Colleen. “Normally I would advise against it, but I think we can all agree this is a unique case with unique circumstances.”

This got a chuckle out of Shiro and Mr. Smythe. Keith didn’t understand the humour of what she’d said.

“Is it alright if he speaks to you with the rest of us present?” asked Colleen. “It’s up to you.”

Iverson had been given a chair beside the desk while Shiro sat in his regular seat. Colleen had perched herself on the corner of the desk while Mr. Smythe remained standing. The way they were oriented, Keith felt very much on the spot.

In response he twisted himself on the chair to face Iverson. “Can I -” he paused to clear this throat. His voice was so croaky like it used to get when he’d go weeks without ever speaking. He heard the shift as everyone leaned a bit closer to hear his quiet voice. 

“Can I say something first?” said Keith, trying to make his voice louder.

There must've been some non-verbal communication Keith missed while looking down as there was silence for a few moments and then Iverson said, “Go ahead, Keith.”

“I’m sorry,” began Keith. He’d been thinking for days about what he’d want to say. It was always hard for him to talk naturally around anyone who wasn’t Lance so he’d tried to mentally prepare a statement. Still, it was hard to say the words. “I’m sorry I broke into the camp and stole. I’m sorry about every home I broke into. I didn’t do it because it felt good. It never felt anything but awful. I did it because I needed the food.”

Keith teared up, old hurt and shame bubbling up inside him. “I’m so, so sorry. And I’m sorry I threatened you. I was scared.”

“I know,” said Iverson.

Keith was surprised to hear this. He’d assumed Iverson thought of him as a criminal. 

“There is a reason I’ve been hellbent on catching you ever since I realized you were just a kid.” His chair creaked as he leaned forward. “You shouldn’t have to be doing this stuff. This isn’t the life for a teenager. Heck, this isn’t the life for anyone. I’m not mad about what was taken. I don’t miss it. What disturbed me was seeing you so desperate to eat you’re willing to pull a knife when your face told me you didn’t want to. That is why I’m not bending to public pressure. I am not dropping the charges.”

“Public pressure?” muttered Keith, confused.

Shiro dropped something on the desk in front of Keith. He looked over to see a small stack of paper. The top page looked like a list of names.

“That’s a petition for your release,” said Shiro. “They’ve gathered over five hundred signatures from the surrounding community.”

Keith was shocked even five people would care about him, let alone five hundred. It felt surreal as he picked up the pages and scanned the names. The very first name was Lance McClain followed by his family members after. Looking further down some of the other names jumped out at him.

“I stole from many of these people,” said Keith, his surprise outweighing his fear of speaking up. “Why would they sign?”

Mr. Smythe cleared his throat. “I believe I can field that question. Over the past several days the Sheriff has aided me in finding potential B and E and theft victims to interview in aid of our case. Interviewees, ones who named you as someone who has broken into their homes and stolen their goods, had a very strong reaction to you being in jail. The reactions ranged from surprise to anger to outrage. Not one of them was pleased.”

“Why?”

“The same reason people don’t report their break-ins to me,” said Shiro.

“For twenty-five years there’s been an unspoken agreement that any crimes committed by the Hermit are harmless,” said Colleen. 

“Then there’s the fact that you’re not the original Hermit,” said Mr. Smythe, “but his son. I’ve never seen such sympathy for criminal activity.”

“I don’t deserve it,” said Keith, dropping the papers.

“I disagree,” said Iverson. “I think you deserve all our sympathy, which is why I’m pressing charges.”

This was confusing.

“The way I see it,” said Iverson, “is if I drop the charges, you walk out that door,” he pointed to the station's front door, “we never see you again. You head back out there, maybe further this time, maybe find a new community to travel to and steal from, maybe worse, you try to go on with less than you need. You get set free and you push that freedom to its maximum and we all lose you.

“I don’t want to see you running scared again. That life you’ve been living, is not for you. You belong inside our community, not hovering on the outside. Not skimming around the edges, only taking what you need. These people,” Iverson leaned over and pressed a finger down on the petition, “want to embrace you. You are young, you have a chance for a new path. That is why I’m moving forward with the charges so there are conditions for your release.”

“Wait, release?” said Keith looking up. “You just said I can’t walk out of here.”

“Not without the court’s approval,” said Mr. Smythe. “Which is why we’re presenting you with this.” He took some papers off the other desk and placed them in front of Keith.

Keith looked at the paper on top. all the legal jargon blurred together. He looked up at Colleen, hoping for help.

“These are the conditions of your release,” said Colleen. “In discussions with Mr. Smythe, Sheriff Shirogane, and a judge, the four of us agreed that the usual penalties don’t quite apply in your case.”

“As Mr. Iverson’s suggested,” said Mr. Smythe, “we’re taking jail time off the table and instead we’re focusing on your introduction into society.”

“What - what does that mean?”

“First, securing a legal residence within the county,” said Colleen.

“I hear the McClains have close to an empty nest with three out of five of their children moved out and one more leaving in September,” said Shiro, his tone amused. “Perhaps they’d have a room available for a boarder.”

“Second, is five hundred hours of court ordered community service to be served at Garrison Sleepaway Camp.”

Keith was so surprised, he looked at Iverson in the eye this time. He couldn’t quite voice his question, but Iverson read his mind, “Why would I want you working with me? Because I think it’s important to pay back a place you took from. Plus I’ve heard you’re quite handy, having fixed things as gifts to other places you’ve stolen from. And,” he said, leaning forward, “I want you to see I hold no ill will to you. I’d be happy to teach you some new skills and get to know you better.”

“Next, mandatory weekly counselling sessions for the next year paid by the state,” said Colleen. “Is this a good time to mention I have a degree in psychology?”

“Convenient,” said Shiro, still sounding entertained.

“Then there’s the matter of you possibly being a minor,” said Colleen. “If you are under eighteen then you’d need to enter the foster care system.”

The idea of this sounded more frightening than prison.

“So I will need to hand your case over to Child Protective Services,” said Shiro. “I have the paperwork right here.” Shiro tapped a folder on the desk beside him. “Of course I am swamped and likely won’t be able to send it to them until - hmmm - November?” Shiro shot Keith a grin. Of course Keith’s eighteenth birthday will have passed by then meaning no one would come to take him away from the McClain’s house.

Was he really going to live with Lance?

“Next we have conditions such as securing government ID, enrolling in a GED program, and securing a place of employment…”

Colleen had continued speaking, but Keith had lost focus. When she noticed him staring off, she stopped and said, “I understand this is overwhelming. As your lawyer I can say, this is the best deal we’re going to get and I think it’s in your best interest to accept.”

Keith bit his bottom lip. There were things in there that felt terrifying. Much harder than just taking off the first chance he got and never returning, but then… he’d be leaving Lance behind.

“Would you like to call Lance and ask his opinion?” offered Shiro.

Keith blinked and looked up at Shiro. He nodded yes, feeling the first bit of relief he’d had in days.

***************

“Do you think he’ll like the sign?” asked Lance for the tenth time.

“No, he’ll hate it and want to stay in jail because of it,” said Rachel.

“Really?”

“No!” said Rachel, frustrated. “The sign doesn’t matter at all. He’ll just be happy to see you. You and… everyone we’ve ever met.”

They peaked back at the group of community members that had gathered. Word had gotten out that Keith was being released from jail and everyone wanted to cheer as he walked out. Which seemed like a great idea… until Keith actually walked out, took one look at the crowd, turned around, and tried to reenter the police station.

“This was a mistake,” said Lance, turning to everyone and trying to wave them back. “He hates people!”

Of course no one listened to him and instead started cheering louder.

“Just look at your man there,” said Shiro, twisting Keith back towards the scary horde of people and leading him forward. Keith’s eyes stopped feeling overloaded by the crowd and narrowed in on Lance holding a sign up that said, ‘Welcome home, Keith.’

As soon as their eyes met, Lance dropped the sign and ran towards him. Keith picked up his feet and met him partway. 

Lance slammed into him so hard, Keith stumbled back. When he regained his footing, he returned Lance’s hug. 

“I’m so happy you’re free,” said Lance, leaning back so they could talk face to face. “I’m so sorry I got you arrested and you were stuck there and I couldn’t visit then I let all these people come and my sign was too generic and -”

“Lance,” said Keith, putting a finger to his lips to silence him. “Let’s just go home.”


	12. No one can catch you like I do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after...

Lance spotted his silhouette in the dark, lit up by the occasional flash of the fireworks. Not one to simply announce his presence with a ‘hello,’ Lance ran up behind his boyfriend and grabbed him by the waist.

“Ah - fuck - Lance!” swore Keith, spinning around on him.

“Oops, didn’t mean to scare you,” said Lance, pulling Keith by the hips right up to him.

“I wasn’t scared. You just… you startled me.”

“No one can catch you like I do, right?” giggled Lance. Keith always did this. Pretended he was annoyed and in a bad mood when really he was super happy to see Lance.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so on edge if you weren’t twenty minutes late to your own birthday party,” said Keith, still putting up a snippy front.

“I texted you to say I was running late,” said Lance.

“I don’t have my phone,” said Keith.

“Where is it?”

“At home,” said Keith in a tone that meant he thought this would be obvious. Keith had been living in Lance’s parents place for almost a year now. The sucky part was they said it ‘wasn’t appropriate’ for the two of them to share a bedroom. Fortunately, they were both really good at sneaking around at night and his parents, despite all that had happened, were still heavy sleepers.

“It’s a cell phone, Keith. It’s supposed to travel with you in case someone wants to get in touch with you when you’re on the go.”

“I’m not bringing it with me. That’s how the government tracks your movements,” said Keith, just getting testier.

“That’s how your boyfriend tracks you,” Lance snapped back. “Besides, where are they going to track you going? To work or to home?” Keith had been working in maintenance at the summer camp for about six months. They’d hired him officially after he finished his five hundred community service hours. He liked it there during the winter months because it meant working alone with only the occasional event to throw off his loner self. He was less pleased now that the camp was full, but he at least got along with the kids well enough.

“I’m in a new place now. They could’ve tracked me here.”

That was fair. They were along the edge of the Bad Lands, which was the spot Lance’s friends had chosen to set off the fireworks they’d saved from the fourth of July. They were hoping it was remote enough that Shiro wouldn’t catch them.

“I’ve been here fifteen minutes all alone,” complained Keith, shoulders up to his earlobes where they tended to rise up to when he was actually agitated.

“Oh poor baby,” mocked Lance, rubbing his shoulders. “You had to deal with the likes of Pidge and Hunk.”

“Actually they didn’t see me,” said Keith, ducking his chin and not meeting Lance’s eyes. “I’ve just been… hanging back.”

Keith was so cute Lance just had to pull him into a hug. Even after a full year of practice socializing he was still a loner at heart and had trouble mixing if Lance wasn’t there to hold his hand. Lance didn’t mind at all of course. He spent every free moment he had with Keith when neither of them were working.

Lance stepped back and took Keith’s hand. He tugged it, but Keith held firm.

“We’re missing the fireworks,” argued Lance, wanting to join his friends to watch (and help set them off.)

“Judging from what I scouted, Pidge has enough to last all night,” said Keith. “Besides, I want to give you your birthday present.”

“You sure you don’t want to give it in front of my mom so she can gush about how amazing it is then basically steal it and put it up on the wall in the kitchen.”

“No… but she might put it on the wall,” said Keith, dropping his bag off his shoulder and going into it.

“Oh, what did you carve me this time?” asked Lance.

“I didn’t carve anything,” said Keith. “Been busy.”

“Excuses.”

“With you.”

“I’ll allow it.”

“No, I actually…” Keith handed Lance a hastily wrapped gift. Lance recognized the shape, but unwrapped it just to be sure. “I printed and framed that photo of us you really liked. It’s a stupid gift,” said Keith, grabbing hold of the side and trying to take it back before Lance got a chance to admire it.

“Hey,” said Lance, yanking it back hard. He twisted it around so he could examine it in the flashes of light from the fireworks. Rachel had taken it when they weren’t looking so it was a candid shot of them looking at each other like they were so in love it hurt. Which was the truth. “I love it,” said Lance.

“Maybe if your mom doesn’t steal it you can hang it in your dorm at college.”

“Oh, is that still happening?” asked Lance, coyly. “I thought I cancelled that.”

“You can’t cancel going to college, Lance!” snapped Keith, slipping into their usual argument.

“But you won’t be there,” whined Lance, “so it officially sucks.”

“I’m only a two hour drive away,” said Keith. “It’ll be fine.”

“It won’t because I’ll die without your attention and you can’t survive even attending a birthday party without me.”

“It’s your birthday party,” said Keith, “It would be weird if you weren’t here.”

Lance leaned in and planted a kiss on Keith’s cheek. “I love the gift and I love that you’re here.” Keith smiled. “Now let’s go make my grand entrance!” Lance dropped the photo back into Keith’s bag then grabbed him by both hands and yanked him forward towards his friends.

“Hey!!” yelled out Lance as he dragged Keith along.

Everyone turned and began shouting out their greetings and wishing Lance a happy eighteen birthday. Allura was there and she’d brought a date.

After the whole market incident Allura had started hanging around Lance a lot more. At first Lance thought she was in search of a ‘gay bestie’ and was kinda resentful because of that but after months of being certain that’s why the topic of his sexuality kept coming up she revealed something shocking to him. “I think I like a girl.”

It was nice to see she’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask out the girl in question and had brought Romelle as her date tonight.

They all chatted as a group for awhile and then Pidge insisted they get the fireworks show up and running again. Lance noticed Keith go and take a seat a bit apart from the madness and automatically went to sit with him.

“Need a breather already?” asked Lance.

“Naw,” said Keith, turning his head to look at him. “Just knew if I sat alone you’d come over and we could make out for a minute.” Then he leaned in and kissed Lance.

“My stars,” exclaimed Lance, fanning himself. “What will the others think?”

“That it’s your birthday and you can do whatever you want,” said Keith, scooping Lance’s hand into his.

This was true so Lance took advantage and kissed his boyfriend. Afterall, they only had a month of summer left to kiss whenever the mood struck them. Eventually the call of the fireworks was too much and they turned to watch, Lance’s head on Keith’s shoulder and Keith’s head leaning on top of his.

“Do you ever think about it?” asked Lance.

“Think about…?” repeated Keith, curious.

“Your shack out there,” said Lance, giving a nod out into the Bad Lands.

“What about it?” asked Keith. 

A few days after Keith had been released from jail, he and Lance had driven to his shack on his ATV with a trailer attached and grabbed what Keith wanted to keep. It wasn’t too much. Mostly a fleece blanket with a scene of three wolves howling at the moon, some books, and the collection of movies Lance had gifted him.

“You know we can stream all of those now,” Lance had told him at the time.

“Stream them?” Keith had repeated, having no context for that sentence.

“Think about it in what way?” asked Keith.

“Like… think about running away to it again.”

Lance could feel Keith shaking his head against his own head. “If I do, it’s in a sad way. Like I’m overwhelmed and think of shutting myself off, but never in a longing way. It wasn’t home. It was a place where I survived. The house with my dad was home. The next thing that ever felt that way, that safe, was you.”

“Aw,” purred Lance, but he still felt unsure. “So when I leave for college you won’t…?”

“Run away and live in a shack. No. For starters Shiro would probably arrest me.” This didn’t sound true. Shiro seemed to adore Keith, had personally recommended to the judge that he not be jailed or fined (as if Keith had any money,) and of all the people in the town, seemed to be the one person Keith had clicked with as friends. “Second, you could always come find me.”

“I have been to that shack twice and I still have no idea where it is,” said Lance, honestly.

“Would that stop you?”

“No,” laughed Lance.

“Exactly.”

They settled back into a nice cuddle, visions of Lance busting into that shack to drag Keith home dancing in his head. Then something occurred to him.

“Whoa!” said Lance, raising up his head and forcing Keith to raise his too. “I just realized I never asked you.”

“Asked me what?”

“Why your dad was a hermit in the first place? Do you know? Did he tell you why he moved out there?”

Keith looked ahead into the Bad Lands like he was picturing the past. “He was hiding from the government.”

“Oh, here we go,” said Lance, excitedly. “And why was that?”

“They were trying to stop his research.”

“Research?” Lance repeated. This was the first he’d heard of Keith’s dad researching anything. “Researching what?”

Keith turned and looked Lance in the eye as he said with all seriousness, “Aliens.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Huge thank you to @anime_fangirl823 for being my beta!
> 
> Follow me on twitter @chillysuperpunk


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